


Fear of Falling

by LokiOdinson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Lucifer's Cage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:04:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiOdinson/pseuds/LokiOdinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cage!fic. Post-Swan Song. Stuck in possibly the worst place in creation with only a bitter and angry Michael still wearing Adam for company, Sam decides sticking with Lucifer is better than nothing. But with the memory of being Lucifer's vessel fresh in mind, Sam can't help but contemplate over a few things he learnt while able to see inside the devil's head. As a gradual sense of companionship builds between them, Sam finds that maybe being with Lucifer is more of a comfortable position than he thought.<br/>Eventual Samifer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Swan Dive

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Lęk przed upadkiem](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1424410) by [lucky_one](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucky_one/pseuds/lucky_one)



> I have been meaning to write a cage!fic for ages, so here it is at last! Updates may be sporadic, you have been warned.
> 
> I have a habit of making Michael out to be a total jerk, so yeah, that happens. Also I do hate when people portray Lucifer as a total victim/ completely innocent, so that will NOT be the case, even if it looks like it. I didn't want to make Sam too sympathetic toward him to begin with, but what sympathy he does show is hopefully understandable and will be looked into further later.
> 
> One other side note about when Sam's body gets taken away: a lot of people seem to think Cas goes down to the cage and pulls him out, but that doesn't make sense to me, cause surely is Cas can get in and out, then Michael and Lucifer could too? So my personal belief is that Cas sort of catches Sam on the way down, so this is written with that in mind, just fyi.

There was no exact term for the fear of falling. Acrophobia was the fear of heights, he could recall. He supposed another term wasn't really needed. Where else could you fall from but off of a high place? You could tumble off the edge of a balcony, fall from a roof. There was nowhere to fall lower than the ground, at least for most people.

It was funny the kind of thoughts your mind came up with when in dire situations. Here he was, tumbling down into the greatest depths of Hell, and he was worrying about what proper name to give to the fear he felt. Sam Winchester had definitely never been Acrophobic (it would have been ironic, with how tall he was), but he suddenly understood the fear of falling entirely. Or was it the falling that scared him? Maybe it was when the falling stopped that was the thing to fear.

Something had ripped he and Lucifer apart. He didn't know whether it was the cage that did it, or something else, but he'd felt the archangel fall away from him. Maybe he'd just grown used to them being together, but he felt lighter somehow, shapeless. He could feel the howling winds rushing by, seemingly cutting right through him. Was it supposed to feel like that? He felt like a ghost. He felt like he was fading. He felt scared of falling and the rocky abyss he was tumbling into. In a panic he tried to stop himself, arms flailing, but he wasn't only falling, he was being sucked in.

They were being sucked in. He saw Michael in the distance- Michael who was still in Adam- clawing at the air, trying to stop himself, to fly upwards. It was useless. He couldn't see Lucifer, though there was a blinding light following just behind him. He was scared to look in case it blinded him. But wasn't he already dead? What did it matter?

Then he saw it, the way the cavern narrowed, the gaping entrance to a prison, a square cut amongst the rock, the edges glowing.

He barely had time to take in the sight before they had passed it, and the floor was rising up to meet him, burning red and hard. He writhed madly in the air, fighting against the gravity, the vacuum pulling him in. There was fire everywhere. No.  _No._..

Thicks iron bars weaved their way across the entrance, criss-crossing each other until they stretched all the way to opposite sides, sealing the cage. On each intersection of metal was a seal. Six hundred seals that clicked back into place, like six hundred locks turning.

For a few long moments, Sam just stared at the doorway above them. It took a while for him to realise he was looking up when he'd been falling downward. No, he was standing, staring straight ahead. The door was in the wall, not the ceiling. But they'd definitely been falling.

"Down isn't the only way to fall."

The light was still hovering behind him. Without thinking, he turned to face it, immediately wincing, but the great hazy form quickly shifted, seeming to fold in on itself, twisting into a shape until it looked like Nick again.

He didn't know what he had expected Lucifer to do, but the way the archangel was just stood there staring at him made Sam uncomfortable. He felt inclined to respond somehow, to do something. Apologise, maybe. Or... He didn't know. Lucifer didn't look angry. He looked lost, sorrowful, like he was watching something horrible.

It was then Sam realised he was burning. He lifted his hands to look at them, at the fire creeping up his skin. He felt it now, on his face, his body, everywhere, too hot to be recognised, simply pain. He was burning.  _He was burning_.

"Sam...  _Sam_..."

He could hear the voice, but it sounded far away, like he was underwater. How the hell was he supposed to focus on a voice? He was burning. He was on fire. It hurt so much he couldn't see, or couldn't open his eyes. He could still hear. Someone was yelling now, someone was saying he deserved this.

"It's his fault.  _It's all his fault we're stuck down here._ "

"Don't blame him. It's your fault. I didn't want this! We could have just walked away."

"How could I walk away after what you did? It's your fault, it's his fault. You two freaks deserve to burn here together, but I did nothing to deserve this!  _I am a good son._ "

He was pretty sure he'd fallen to his knees. Maybe he was just falling again, right through the ground. Falling into the flames. The voices seemed to have stopped. There was a gust of air, like wings flapping, something like a crash, but he paid no mind to it. He had bigger problems. He was burning. He felt like he was being ripped apart.

The heat was maddening. He thought maybe he was clawing at the floor, clawing at his own face. He wanted to die, to make it stop. But he was already dead, wasn't he?

Sam screamed louder.

 

* * *

 

 

He woke up on his motel bed. For a few moments, he just stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember where he was. What were they hunting? What state was this?

He turned his head, eying the room with it's pale green walls, chipped wooden furniture, brown curtains covering the window. The bed sheets pulled up to Dean's waist were beige.

"Dean?"

His brother's back was turned to him, the dark grey fabric of his shirt stretched taut over his hunched shoulders.

Sam sighed, slipping out of bed, bare feet touching the carpet and padding across the room. He stopped beside his brother, leaning down and shaking Dean's shoulder. "Dean. Come on, get up."

Dean didn't move. Sam frowned. His brother was a light sleeper, you had to be with the life of a hunter.

" _Dean_."

He yanked Dean over onto his back, choking back the scream that clawed at his throat upon finding his brother very definitely dead. His face was starting to rot, hollow eyes staring blankly up at him. His throat was slit. Sam found himself holding a bloodied knife.

"No... No, I... What...?"

He threw the knife away from him, watching it skid across the floorboards. Wait, hadn't the floor been carpet? He looked back at the bed. Dean was gone.

"What?"

He scanned the motel room. Which motel? Where was he? It looked like the room was rotting, disintegrating. He looked up.

" _NO!_ "

Of course Dean was pinned to the ceiling, limbs splayed. Then the fire, engulfing the room suddenly, crawling its way across the walls from every angle, rushing towards him, licking at his skin and pulling him into its embrace.

He was screaming, writhing, remembering that he'd been burning before. Oh, he knew where he was now. How could he have forgotten?

He tried to run, tried to make for the door, but there was no door. There had never been a door. Or a motel room. He tried to console himself with the fact that that meant there was no dead Dean burning, but consolations were hard to appreciate when fire was melting your skin off.

He was clawing at the ground in desperation. Or was it the walls? The ceiling? Maybe he was burning on the ceiling...

"Sam."

He tried to run but he was in too much pain to move. He screamed louder, trying to drag himself away. But where? Where could he hide in this horrible place?

"Sam, it's not real."

" _I'm burning_."

"No, you're not. Your mind is just convinced you are."

"I can feel it.  _I'm on fire."_

"No. You think you're on fire. Look at it, Sam. Look properly."

Look? Look at what? His skin melting off? He'd really rather not, but he raised his hands in front of his face regardless. He thought he could see the muscles and bone under scarred skin, but when he looked again he wasn't sure. He didn't know how skin burnt. Wouldn't it turn all black first?

"It's in your head, Sam. The horrors you see can only be as bad as your mind can dream up."

He thought about it. Thought about the concept of being on fire, as horrid an idea as that was. He felt his head. His hair was still there, but wouldn't that burn first? And his clothes, he was still wearing clothes. They would have burnt away first, surely, if this were real. This wasn't following logic. He couldn't be on fire.

So suddenly, he wasn't. He blinked and the flames were gone. He almost laughed in relief.

A hand appeared at front of him, offering to help him up. Sam took it without thinking, letting himself be pulled shakily to his feet.

"Thank you."

He'd known who it was, but is mind was only now calm enough to properly acknowledge it and what it meant.

"You're... not Adam, right?"

"No. I'm still Michael. I thought you'd find it easier to speak to me in a vessel, and this way I can keep your brother from having to face this horrid place."

"...Thanks, I guess."

Michael gave a short nod in response, turning slightly to gaze with Sam across the rocky, vast expanse of the cage. If there was an opposite wall, it was too far for Sam to see.

"Where's Lucifer?" Sam found himself asking. He told himself it was a perfectly acceptable question; natural curiosity. "I heard you two arguing before I blacked out... or whatever happened."

Michael shrugged. "Walk with me, Sam."

Seeing no harm in it, Sam followed the archangel as they began a slow pace ahead. He had no idea where they were going, if anywhere, but walking at least gave him something to do rather than thinking about his situation.

"I started seeing other things, you know," Sam said after a near minute of silence. "I thought I was in a motel room with Dean. Then Dean was dead and..." He trailed off, not particularly eager to recount much more detail.

"This place does that," Michael said. "What tortures one man may not effect another as much. It would be unfair to have all the same punishment in Hell, so it gets inside the head of each of its occupants and draws on their own personal fears."

"I see." Sam gave a weak smile. "It's effective."

"Indeed," Michael said seriously.

Sam sighed, tilting his head back to see the roof but again finding he could only see nothing but darkness. The whole place was bleak, like walking through a room with the lights turned off. "So," he started slowly, "how're you doing? You know, with all this."

Michael shrugged. "Someone will be sent for me soon. I will not be left down here."

Sam didn't think breaking into the cage would be that easy, even for the might of Heaven, but he said nothing.

"I will try and allow you and Adam to leave with me. I am sorry for this fate for you, Sam. I always said to my father that being Lucifer's vessel was a cruel fate for anyone. I would have been happy to fight on another plane in our true forms. Lucifer should not be permitted near to anyone."

Sam frowned, brow furrowing.

"Lucifer is like poison. He corrupts everything he comes into contact with. That's what those horrid demons are, twisted souls poisoned by Lucifer's influence."

"He's your brother," Sam couldn't help but say. It disturbed him how casually Michael was saying all this. He wondered if Dean had ever talked about him like this to other people, but- thankfully- he couldn't quite see it.

"Yes," Michael sighed, though it seemed more a gesture for appearance than genuine emotion. "That's what makes this all so disappointing.  _My_  brother, now such a monster."

"What?" Sam said. "That's it? You're offended just cause it's your brother? Are you worried it makes you look bad or something?" He was vaguely aware he was mouthing off to an archangel, but he supposed he was in Hell anyway, such risks didn't seem such an issue. Besides, he couldn't help but feel what Michael was saying was unjust. A part of him still compared Michael to Dean, and the idea of his own brother saying such things about him unnerved Sam, though he knew Dean wouldn't.

"I just don't understand it," Michael muttered, shaking his head. "We were happy. Why did he have to ruin it?"

"Well..." Sam hesitated. He didn't want to be too bold in defending Lucifer, merely on principle, but he had to admit Michael's attitude irked him. It was as if he couldn't even be bothered to consider Lucifer's reason. "He felt strongly about the whole issue of humanity, you know. People do strange things when it comes to something they really care about."

"I thought he cared about me. Us. Our family."

"He does," Sam blurted. He paused, lowering his voice. "Look, maybe I don't know everything about it. But, just maybe you need to take into account that Lucifer thought he was doing the right thing."

Michael turned to look at him, expression stern. It was disturbing to see on Adam's usually placid features. "Disobeying our father is  _not_  the right thing."

Sam broke eye contact quickly. "I can't comment on that," he said shortly. "I'm just, you know, saying Lucifer had his reasons."

"Well his 'reasons' were wrong."

"Not to him."

Michael's eyes narrowed dangerously and Sam decided against saying anymore. Already in Hell or not, provoking an archangel too far was never a good idea.

They kept walking. The landscape hadn't changed much. Still gloomy and nothing but rocky floor and shadowed walls.

"How big is this place?" Sam asked.

"That depends," Michael replied. "The concepts of time and space are not the same here as on earth. This place is essentially endless, but you may come across the walls if you look, but the distance between them may not be the same next time you find them. Likewise, it may not look the same. Hell will be whatever your mind makes it into, as you've already seen a little of."

Sam nodded. "So what, Lucifer flew off?"

"More or less. He's likely sulking somewhere."

Sam considered what he wanted to say. He decided he might as well. "You know, seeing as we're all stuck here. Maybe the two of you could... talk?"

For a few moments, Michael said nothing. Sam wondered if he was about to simply fly off and leave him, but eventually, he responded. "You heard all that, that was said in the cemetery."

Sam nodded. "It's strange, you know. Since I said yes, Lucifer let me hear and see everything. From Jimmy- that's Cas' vessel- I got the impression it wasn't quite like that."

"It's not usually," Michael said, a touch of genuine surprise lining his voice. "I don't know why Lucifer kept you so aware." He paused. "A bad decision, it seems. Though it would explain how you actually managed to regain control."

Sam chose not to comment.

"So," he said instead. "What are we going to do? I mean, we're all here and it's not like we've got HBO in the pit, right?"

Michael turned to him with a frown, clearly not understanding the reference.

Sam smiled weakly. "It's, er, a TV channel."

"Oh." Michael raised both eyebrows slightly, but shrugged it off. "I see."

Sam found it rather ironic that Michael seemed to be one of the more oblivious angels, at least when it came to human things. With how he had boasted about being the first to bow to humans as his Father asked, Sam was surprised at how little he knew about the creatures he was supposed to serve. He couldn't help but think that maybe Michael had missed the point.

He opened his mouth, intending to make some other mundane comment about their situation, when something caught his attention.

In the dim, gloomy expanse of rock and not much else, any change in scenery was easily noticeable, so the gleam of pale yellow on the ground quickly caught his attention.

"What's that?"

Michael frowned as Sam hurried forward, crouching down and picking up the thin object. It was a feather, rather ragged, but still a beautiful.

"Just leave it, Sam," Michael said.

Sam ignored him, holding it close to his face to study it. "It's an angel feather, right? Can they fall out?"

"Not generally," Michael said vaguely.

Sam stood up, looking around. There was another feather up ahead. He dashed over and collected it up, too. He stopped, turning to look at Michael. "Are these yours?"

"My wings are white."

Sam's expression hardened. He walked forward, toward a shadowed area where the rocky wall bent in and over hung, casting the space in almost complete blackness. As he got closer, he could see a shape lying on the floor, huddled close to the wall. He knelt down beside it, hand hovering over a back covered in dark green fabric. He hesitated only briefly before placing his hand down.

He thought he felt Lucifer twitch slightly, but otherwise he didn't respond.

Sam looked up at Michael, who merely stood with his hands by his sides. "What happened?"

"We may have had an... altercation."

"You fought him?" Sam said. "After everything? Down here, of all places? You  _still_  felt the need to fight your own brother?"

"Lucifer betrayed me," Michael snapped.

"We're in  _Hell_ , Michael. Can you not let it go just for now?"

"I won't be here for long," Michael insisted. "And once I am freed, we will restart the apocalypse and I will fulfil my destiny as I am supposed to."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Why does it  _have_  to happen? Are you that desperate to kill your own brother? Even after all this, you really can't just let it go?"

"It is my destiny," Michael said firmly, as if that settled the matter.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Your chance at glory, you mean. Doesn't family mean anything to you?"

"Of course," Michael snapped, fists clenched. "I'm doing this for my family."

" _Lucifer_  is your family!"

"Lucifer is a  _freak!_ "

Sam hadn't realised his hand was still on Lucifer's back. He froze as he felt a jolt underneath his fingertips, glancing over, but stopping himself from commenting. Slowly, he turned back to Michael. "Why? I'm 'the boy with the demon blood', aren't I a freak, too?"

Michael rolled his shoulders back, lips pursed. "I have tried to be nice to you, Sam."

"Screw that," Sam spat. "Go on, tell me what you think of me. I'm a freak too, right?"

" _Yes_ ," Michael growled. "My Father did not intend for such abominations. I thought you might still be saved, when I so generously offered to help you get out of here with me. I was even going to keep you company until then."

"Screw your company."

"You weren't saying that when I helped you snap out of it when this place was starting to get to you."

"Thanks for that," Sam said quickly, though with a clear lack of gratitude. "I appreciated it. But you know what? I think I can handle myself now. Get lost, Michael."

The archangel frowned, looking perplexed. "You're staying here? With him?"

Sam paused, gaze straying to look down at the hunched creature lying on the floor beside him, his face hidden. He swallowed. "Yes."

"Fine," Michael hissed. "I'll go and wait for my rescue crew and I'll ensure we don't let you hitch a ride. I hope you'll be very happy together."

With a flap of wings, he was gone.

Sam let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, jumping slightly when, from just below him, a surprisingly humbled voice mumbled, "thank you."


	2. Drifting

A few long moments of silence passed. Slowly, Lucifer pushed himself up, turning to look up at Sam. There were no visible scars on him, but Sam supposed there wouldn't be. He was creating the illusion of his old vessel, presumably to not totally overwhelm Sam's senses.

Even so, the Winchester found himself looking away uncomfortably. "He was... He was being a total jerk. I was getting sick of it." He wanted to tell Lucifer he didn't do it for him, but that both sounded stupid, and perhaps wasn't entirely true. Sam cleared his throat awkwardly.

Lucifer climbed properly up onto his knees, blue eyes studying the Winchester. "I didn't intend for you to find me like that," he said quietly. "That wasn't my most... eloquent moment."

Unsure what to say, Sam nodded, still not meeting his eyes. For the sake of something to do, he studied the stretch of wall they were beside, glancing behind in hopes of seeing the opposite side but finding the space only stretched into blackness.

"You're handling this well," Lucifer said suddenly.

Sam turned back to him and shrugged vaguely. "I... kind of had some bad moments earlier. I thought I was on fire, then I saw all this stuff where Dean was dead and..."

"Hell does that."

Sam nodded. "Michael kind of helped me snap out of it." He paused. "But then he started acting like a jerk."

The corner of Lucifer's lips twitched into something close to a smile. "Michael does that."

Sam managed to smile back, before he quickly forced his expression into something a little more neutral. He shouldn't be getting on with Lucifer, let alone sharing jokes with him. He looked away again.

"So, erm, are you hurt... or anything?"

Lucifer shrugged, which didn't really tell Sam anything either way. "He didn't try as hard as he could have," he said.

Sam wondered whether Lucifer had fought back. The general consensus he'd got from other angels was that Michael would have won, had the big apocalyptic fight gone down. It seemed now that Michael was fine after having tossed his brother around. Was Michael truly that much stronger? Or was Lucifer just not trying?

He couldn't help but think about it. When Lucifer had been inside his head, he had told Sam he couldn't lie to him, that he could see everything in his mind, but that connection had worked both ways. Lucifer's thoughts were hard to make out, admittedly, a swirling, racing mass of angelic knowledge, but Sam had still seen bits and pieces. Anger and hatred were prominent. Sam had seen gruesome images of Lucifer literally tearing other beings apart, blood coating his hands, dripping all the way down his arms. There was little remorse, a horrid coldness deep in his soul that all feelings and affection seemed to have been stripped from. But there was something else, too. Sam had felt it at certain moments, like when Lucifer had seen Michael again in that cemetery, for the first time in millennia. There had been hope, and an almost desperate need for acceptance that Sam recognised all too well from something within himself.

"So..." he said, wanting more to break the awkward silence than anything else. There was a strange kind of uncertainty about talking to someone who had literally seen inside your head. It was the same kind of discomfort when as someone walking in on you changing, with neither sure whether to talk about it, or simply feign ignorance that such intimacy had ever occurred. "What now?"

Lucifer's gaze slid over to him. "Now nothing," he said. "If you were expecting that I had some big plan, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. This is our lot for the rest of eternity, Sammy."

There was a slight bitterness to Lucifer's words, but Sam chose to ignore it. "I just meant, how are we going about this? There's four of us down here, and... you know, kind of a lot of stuff unresolved."

It was a purposefully vague term. Sam was wary of making any presumptions. He wasn't sure how Lucifer felt towards him right now. Though he'd not shown any signs of hostility yet, he could easily decide to take his anger out on Sam.

"I believe I owe you a fiddle of gold," Lucifer said.

Sam blinked, briefly confused, before he recalled the light-hearted boast Lucifer had made in response to discovering that Sam planned to fight him inside his own head.  _A fiddle of gold against your soul says I'm better than you._  "Let's... just call it a draw."

He didn't know if he truly was better than Lucifer. He doubted it. He'd certainly failed in his initial attempts to over-power him. A final result couldn't really be declared, seeing as both opponents had hardly been as determined in their efforts as they should have been.

Sam was ashamed to admit, when joining with Lucifer, he had felt a disturbing, but undeniable sense of pleasure. Exhilaration, Lucifer had called it. And Sam  _had_  most certainly felt it. In fact, for the first time, he had felt... whole. He could have fought Lucifer harder and he knew it.

Yet, likewise, Lucifer had not made the effort he should...

"He can't come for you, you know," Lucifer said. "Not this time. Dean can't get down here, no matter what deals he makes."

"I told him to go and make a life for himself."

"Will he?" Lucifer actually sounded genuinely curious.

Sam considered it. "I hope so."

It was too strange just sitting on the floor together like this, so Sam got to his feet, shuffling awkwardly as he looked around. There really wasn't much to do in such a place, and the lack of purpose was already starting to get to him. He kept thinking he should be searching for a new job, checking the papers for suspicious stories. Even at Stanford, Sam had been busy with schoolwork, and constantly keeping himself in check to appear 'normal' to his peers. Here there was nothing, no jobs to do, no one to try and give a good impression to.

He turned as Lucifer stood, too, teeth grating his bottom lip. "What did you do down here for all that time, on your own?"

For a few moments, Lucifer didn't answer. He looked slowly around, blue eyes running over the expanse of the cage. Sam wondered how far he could see.

"Thinking," Lucifer said eventually. "A lot of thinking."

The idea was already staring to disturb Sam. He'd never liked having too much time to think. An eternity with nothing but his thoughts was suddenly a horribly daunting idea. Did time work down here? Would he age? He looked down at his hands, panicking briefly when he thought he saw them as old and wrinkled, but when he blinked furiously and shook his head, the illusion vanished.

"What will happen to me?" Sam asked. "Will I get older? Die?"

Lucifer gaze ran slowly over him. There was something in his eyes that unnerved Sam, like Lucifer was holding back on telling him something. "What?"

"You haven't realised?"

"Realised what?"

"I presumed it was part of your big plan?"

" _What_  was?"

"What attempted to catch you on the way down."

" _What?_ "

"Something pulled your body out, Sam."

"Huh? But I'm right here."

Lucifer's gaze flicked over him again. "Not all of you."

Sam was starting to panic, a sense of dread welling up inside him. He had felt different since ending up here, but he'd presumed it was just because it was... well, Hell.

"Your body's gone, Sam," Lucifer said. "You're just a soul."

And suddenly, he could feel it. The eerie lack of physicality, the looseness, that there was nothing anchoring him into this form. There had been nothing except his own belief that he was in a body and should therefore appear so.

It was as if he turned to gas, suddenly drifting, shapeless, he tried to hold his hands out to see them but there was nothing there. Sam started screaming.

He wasn't a person anymore. His body was gone. Gone  _where?_  He was drifting in nothingness. What happened if he forgot himself? Would he disappear entirely?

"Sam..."

How could he hear? Surely he didn't have ears, ear drums, or whatever else made sound audible to humans.

"Sam, you're fine."

He couldn't answer. He was choking on his words, still screaming. Screaming out of a non-existent mouth. He was just a soul.  _Just a soul_. What the hell did that even mean?

He was floating off the floor. Or there was no floor. The sensation was horrid and he flailed in the air though he had no limbs. It felt constantly like he was falling, falling from a great height, so high it felt like flying, those moments of initial free-falling where you couldn't see the ground and it seemed like you would be in the air forever.

"Sam..."

He couldn't see anymore. Everything was a blurred mass of colour and darkness. He was drowning in the air. He was losing himself. He was-"

" _Sam!"_

There was light. The most beautiful light he'd ever seen. He thought it must have been huge, but without his body he had no idea how big he was to compare. But the light was wrapping around him, embracing him. And the light was a being, with a body and limbs and beautiful, beautiful wings. The light had been there all along, he now realised. Lucifer hadn't made himself look like Nick, rather Sam's mind, in its desperate state, has chosen to see him like that, unable to comprehend this cosmic true form. But he'd lost touch with his mind now. The protections the human mind placed upon itself to cope with what it couldn't understand were no longer functioning. He could see Lucifer- really see him. And he could see Hell, in all its true horror with a thousand images flickering together of all the worst things he knew of. He could see it all at once and it was too much. He was drowning...

* * *

He was in another motel room. He could feel the coarse sheets under him, smell the faint scent of cleaning fluid and cigarette smoke for nearby rooms. Or was that the burning of hell fire? He was scared to open his eyes to find out. Fire? Another dead Dean? Someone else he loved burning on the ceiling?

"It's okay, Sam."

There wasn't any particular sense of affection in Lucifer's voice. He merely sounded factual, and strangely that was what convinced Sam to dare look around him. And it was, indeed, okay.

He was lying on the motel bed. The sheets were a deep red, the room gloomy as if it were night, though surely there was no such thing in Hell. And Lucifer was with him, sat on the end of the bed with his back to him.

"Where are we?" Sam asked. "Is this another trick? Am I about to see something horrible again?"

Lucifer shook his head. "You should be fine. There are ways to combat Hell's tricks, Sam. Such as this. You have to bring yourself to a happier place, a good memory. This is one of mine."

Sam frowned, looking down and holding his hands out. He could indeed see them, though the frightening concept that he was still just a soul was slowly creeping up on him again. "How am I here? How am I... me? Before it was like... like I forgot myself." He had to make a conscious effort to stop himself from shivering. "It was like I fell apart."

Lucifer ducked his head, the thick nape of his neck visible between his shirt collar and the short-cut edges of blond hair. "A soul is a colossal thing, Sam. Your body is what usually anchors you together. That's why the ghosts you hunt go crazy in the way they do. They get lost in themselves." He raised his head once more, turning to look over his shoulder at Sam. "Your soul is everything you are simultaneously present in a constant moment. Humans weren't made to see themselves to that extent."

The information was making Sam's head swim. He swallowed thickly, making evert conscious effort to keep himself calm. "Okay, so why aren't I all crazy now? Why am I here? You said this was a memory of yours?" He looked around. What memory of the devil's could possibly be in a motel room?

And then he recognised it. He recognised the empty space in the bed beside him where he had convinced himself Jess lay. He'd known it wasn't really Jess, and he hadn't been able to bring himself to admit it, both because it was too painful, and because a frightening part of him felt unnervingly more attracted to what he sensed it really was. Sam stared at the white sheets, slowly extending one hand and smoothing his palm over them. "This is... this is the first time we met."

Lucifer nodded, facing away from him once more.

It was exact to the last detail. Even the pattern on the wallpaper flowed just how Sam remembered it.

"Why... Why here?"

"I told you. Hell can be combated with good memories."

Sam was silent for a few moments, contemplating. "This," he spoke up eventually, "is a good memory to you?"

Lucifer nodded. "Seeing you... It was..." Lucifer paused, eyes slipping shut. "It was something I'd been waiting for for longer than you know."

Sam shifted uncomfortably, shuffling on the bed as if he wanted to get up and walk off but couldn't quite bring himself to.

"My vessel..." Lucifer spoke the words with the same reverence he had when he had first said them to Sam. There was something both light and deeply meaning in his tone, like it was something he thought about fleetingly in every casual moment, yet the most significant thing in the world.

"Well," Sam said hesitantly, voice tight. "That whole thing kind of back-fired, didn't it?"

Lucifer showed no anger, or even displeasure at the words. His head drooped slightly, and Sam almost got the impression he was smiling. "It doesn't matter what happened, Sam. You're still my vessel. Please, don't think of that as some technical term, some horrid role. I never thought of you as a tool, Sam. Not ever."

Sam bit his bottom lip, unsure what to say. This was what he resented most with Lucifer. Not anything to do with demons, or killing and destruction. No. What he hated the most about the devil (only marginally more than he hated the fact that he didn't really hate him at all) was how genuinely uncomfortable Lucifer made him feel. He tried, he really did, to feel scared, to be sickened by him, but the feelings just weren't there. It would be so easy to hate him if he truly were the purely evil being doing bad for the mere sake of it, but instead Lucifer never failed to throw him off guard, saying these things that made Sam feel... He didn't even know what.

"Stop," he said. "Just stop, okay? Shut up."

Lucifer glanced over his shoulder at him, but obediently said nothing. He didn't even do Sam the favour of looking offended.

For a long while, they just sat in silence. Sam fiddled with the bed sheets, marveling at the realism of the fabric. Hell certainly didn't fail to put in the details; or was it Lucifer? His own bad memories had fluctuated with his own poor memory, but he supposed angels were much better at recalling things. Even so, Lucifer was... he didn't even know how old, and that one first meeting them must have been no more than a brief flicker in the colossal span of his lifetime. Did Lucifer think about this often?

"What now?" he asked.

Slowly, Lucifer got to his feet, rolling his shoulders back before turning languidly to face Sam. "There is no now, Sam." He gestured vaguely around them. "There's this. Forever. You might as well forget about time, because here it might as well be gone."

The idea made Sam's breath hitch in his throat. The idea of just  _being_  down here, with nothing to strive for, nothing to  _do_  was suddenly terrifying. "But... you must have... some plan or have to want to do something. I mean, when you were in here before, you must have occupied yourself somehow. You've got to have some purpose?"

Lucifer almost seemed to smile at that, walking round to the side of the bed and reaching down to gently tuck Sam's hair back behind his ear.

Sam found he couldn't even be bothered to pretend to flinch.

"You were my purpose, Sam," Lucifer said.

Sam closed his eyes. "Please don't say that." He tried to make his voice purposeful, but it came out as nothing more than a weak whisper.

Lucifer looked less than happy, but said nothing more. He linked his hands behind his back and wandered aimlessly across the room. "I do understand, Sam, why you continue to cling to this resentment of me. I know you feel you have to." He paused, the faint light silhouetting the side of his face so Sam couldn't quite see his expression. "But there is no way out of here. And forever is a long time to keep up such feelings only because you feel obliged to."

There were a thousand arguments Sam could have made to that, all of which both he and Lucifer knew were not true. So he said nothing, instead dropping back down on the bed and rolling onto his side so his back was to Lucifer.


	3. Floating

He couldn't sleep. Then again, he wasn't even sure if he was trying to sleep.  _Could_  he sleep? He didn't know whether sleep was possible in Hell, nor whether being just a soul made it both possible and necessary. He seemed to have blacked out before, but perhaps that had been just his mind shutting down on itself. Perhaps that had been him losing touch with himself. Suddenly, sleep didn't seem all that appealing.

He opened his eyes, wondering if the surrounding area might have changed, but he found himself looking at the same gloomy motel wall as before.

"Lucifer?" The word spilled from his lips without thinking, and he flushed, but there was nothing he could do to take it back.

"Here," Lucifer's voice came, sounding slightly surprised and almost elated that Sam had called out for him.

The archangel soon appeared in Sam's line of vision, and the hunter sat up properly, feeling uncomfortable lying down while Lucifer stood. He suddenly felt stupid for being in the bed. He knew how Lucifer felt about humans, about how inadequate they were. Did Lucifer think him pathetic for needing to- or at least wanting to- sleep?

He abruptly recalled that he shouldn't really care what the devil, of all people, thought of him, and Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, swinging his legs down onto the floor so he was sat upright.

"What..." Sam really didn't like asking him questions, but the silence was unbearable. "What have you been doing?"

"Watching you."

Sam knew he should feel unnerved by that, but the feeling was distinctly absent.

"I meant, what the hell do you plan to do down here? You know... forever. There must be...  _something_..." He was aware he was starting to freak out. The idea of eternity, in all it massiveness was starting to get to him. This was Hell. There wasn't so much as a book to read. All he had was this great cavernous space, his own dark thoughts. And Lucifer.

"I hate to break it you, Sammy. But there's not a secret games room down here I'm hiding from you."

Sam sighed, but the corner of his lips quirked into something akin to an amused smile. "I know."

Lucifer looked him over briefly, before sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him, studying Sam's expression out of the corner of his eyes, as if looking to see his reaction.

Sam was all too aware of his reaction, and that it was not the one he probably should have.

He sighed, looking vaguely the other way. "Will I go crazy down here?" he asked. "Is that inevitable?"

"I don't know." Lucifer's voice was sincere. "This place wasn't meant for a human, nor have any been in here before. I simply can't tell you, Sam."

"Right." He looked around at the illusion of the motel room. "Would it be possible to dream up another landscape? Like one of with something to do? You know, a movie theatre maybe? Or a library?" He was only half-joking.

"Technically," Lucifer said. "But everything within it you would know already. You can only see what's already in your own mind. You can't go anywhere new, just all the places you've already been."

Sam sighed. It was exactly as he'd been fearing. "Right." He glanced at Lucifer. "Can we go places you've been? I mean, it works for both of us, right?"

"Yes," Lucifer said, though he sounded hesitant. "You would have to summon the memories yourself, though. It can be hard to focus on the place you want. You need a strong memory for it to work."

"You... got this motel room to work."

For a few long moments, Lucifer was silent, before he sighed, tilting his head back slightly and staring upward as if he could see the sky. "Do you want me to say it?" He said blandly, seeming almost frustrated, as if he believe Sam were purposefully feigning ignorance.

"Say what?" Sam's voice was barely more than a whisper.

"How much you mean to me. That you're the only thing I had to look forward to for so long. That I l-"

" _Stop_ ," Sam cut in, frowning uncomfortably. "Don't," he said, voice quieter now. "Just don't." He sighed, clenching his hands in his lap. "Why do you have to say stuff like that?"

Lucifer turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "You would rather I lie?"

Sam hunched his shoulder, looking away. "I'd rather you didn't say that stuff," he reaffirmed. "I'd rather you didn't feel like that. I... I'd rather not be stuck down here with you."

Lucifer said nothing, expression melting into one of quiet contemplation, though Sam couldn't help but note he didn't look happy.

A few long moments of silence passed, before Lucifer spoke up again. "Do you want me to teach you? How to create such landscapes, I mean."

Sam thought about it. His memories of this motel room were... well, uncomfortable. Besides, he would rather not be staring at the four same walls for the next few centuries. He nodded.

Lucifer, surprisingly, shuffled round on the bed, swinging his legs up onto the mattress. He tucked them underneath him so he was kneeling up, gesturing for Sam to adopt a similar position.

With a little reluctance, the hunter did so, sitting cross-legged so he was facing Lucifer.

The archangel held his hands out, and Sam shifted uncomfortably, but took them nonetheless.

"This will require a lot of concentration," Lucifer said, voice soft. "It's not something you can do half-hearted. For some humans, it may even be beyond them. But you are special, Sam."

Sam ducked his head a little, again uncomfortable at such compliments, but he said nothing, and merely nodded to Lucifer's words instead.

"Alright," the archangel said firmly. "Do you have a place in mind?"

"I was thinking, this school I went to when I was eleven," Sam said. "I really enjoyed it there. We actually stayed long enough for me to make friends and-"

"Not strong enough," Lucifer cut in. "And too vague. Narrow it down. Where we are now is only a room, Sam. Think of a room you'd be genuinely happy enough to spend eternity in."

Sam thought. One place did come to mind. "Okay, erm, maybe my room at Stanford? I really loved university, and I was happy there, with Jess, my..." He trailed off, remembering how Lucifer had first appeared to him. "You know."

"We can try it," Lucifer said. "Think about that place, Sam."

Sam nodded, closing his eyes and delving back in his mind to before Dean had broken in that one night.

"You have to really think, Sam," Lucifer's voice continued. "Not just what it looked like; what it smelt like, the feel of things, how  _you_  felt there."

How had he felt there? Happy, surely. With his lovely Jessica. They watched DVDs together on weekends. That had been nice. Normal. Jess had always laughed at how he only ever knew about old movies from the eighties and seventies. He and Dean only ever watched old tapes you could rent at motels when they were kids, or Bobby's old videos...

He opened his eyes. He had done it! He was sat in his room at Stanford. This was the bed he'd shared with Jess. He ran his hands over the covers. Something red dripped onto his hand.

" _No!_ "

Though he wanted nothing more than to not see, he looked up on instinct. He saw the flash of fire, but before he could make out much more, some seemed to pull him back. He briefly lost semblance of which way was up. It was like falling through a vortex. He screamed and clawed at the air, but within a few moments it was over, and he landed with a jolt back into himself, sat cross-legged once more on the motel room bed opposite Lucifer, whose hands had tightened on his, as if he'd just pulled him up from the edge of a cliff.

"You're supposed to think of somewhere happy," Lucifer said blandly.

Sam frowned, roughly pulling his hands away. "That  _was_  a happy place. Until it got ruined. Jess and I could have had a really good life together and-"

"Could you?" Lucifer sounded genuinely curious.

Sam looked over at him.

"I could feel your memories in that place, Sam. It didn't feel so happy to me. Even before that... instance. You need somewhere you were  _genuinely_  happy."

"I  _was_  genuinely happy with Jess," Sam snapped.

Lucifer tilted his head curiously. "Were you? Let me rephrase: were you  _honestly_  happy? To yourself and to her. Because I felt fear, paranoia. You lived in worry that she would find out."

"No," Sam said, but it was barely more than a weak whisper.

"Hell knows when you're lying, Sam," Lucifer said. "It has to be genuine happiness to fight back."

Sam sighed, exhaling sharply from between barely parted lips. Grudgingly conceding his own arguments were not as strong as he hoped, he ventured to move on before Lucifer hit on anymore uncomfortable truths. He supposed the only real genuine feeling he could show had always been only with Dean, or perhaps Bobby. Though even then there had been times when he had not been entirely honest.

The thoughts made Sam uncomfortable. Was that really how his life had been? One bout of pretending after another? Had he always been lying somehow?

"Try again," Lucifer coaxed him gently.

Sam was hardly in a happy mindset, but having never been one to quit easily, he shook his head to try and rid himself of the thoughts, shuffling back round and taking Lucifer's hands once more.

"You have to find genuine happiness, Sam. Somewhere you were at ease."

He nodded, letting his eyes slip shut once more as he searched his memory banks. At ease? Okay, somewhere with Dean or Bobby then. Yes, Bobby's house maybe. He liked Bobby's house. Surely it was as close to a home as he'd ever had.

"You need a specific instance, Sam. You need to freeze frame that moment. Focus."

He remembered one night. There hadn't even really been anything special about it. Dean and Bobby had been downstairs, their voices a soft, but comforting murmur. They'd searched the paper, but no cases had come up. So they'd simply hung around the house for a bit. They'd got takeaway pizza. It had been nice. A moment of peace. It was a cliche phrase, but that was the best way he could think to describe it.

Sucking in a deep breath, he dared to open his eyes.

The wall behind Lucifer was lined with a large bookcase, full of slightly battered, but endlessly useful old volumes. To the left, there was the door, though he didn't dare think about opening it. A slightly wobbly chest of drawers where he kept some of the clothes he didn't travel with. Twisting his head to the right, he found the wooden desk, covered in papers. The wall above was tacked with photographs, diagrams, and newspaper articles. He could even smell whisky and Old Spice in the air.

"Well done, Sam," Lucifer said.

"I really did it," Sam muttered, looking around in awe. He was briefly worried he was going to see flames, or some other horrid sight, but none came. He went to stand up, realising with slightly embarrassment that he still held Lucifer's hands. He pulled away, clenching his fists in a nervous gesture he quickly regretted. Feeling a blush creeping onto his face, he turned away under the pretence of studying the details of the room.

"This should hold," Lucifer said, moving languidly to stand beside him. He slowly gazed around the room, though his face betrayed nothing of what he thought.

Sam wondered sometimes, what angels thought. He had no idea where to even begin guessing with how old Lucifer was, but he knew well that it was at least several thousand times the length over of a human life. Sam often found himself amazed by things, events that happened to him. Surely they would only bore Lucifer. This room probably seemed quaint and uninteresting to him, at best.

Trying not to focus too hard on his bizarre companion, Sam studied the shelves, finding that- as Lucifer had said- they were all book titles he knew. He knew everything in this room and that was what bought it into existence. He knew the empty glass sat on the corner of the desk, the slightly threadbare army blanket thrown over the duvet, even the contents of the drawers he found contained everything he remembered.

There wasn't much. A hairbrush, a few pens, his phone charger (though God only knew where his actual phone was right now), a pad of sticky notes, and the old pack of playing cards Bobby had given him when he was ten.

He lifted them out. Well, there was something to do, at least. He knew every card that was in a full deck, so he saw no reason why they shouldn't work. He could practice Solitaire, or...

Attempting to not make too big a deal of it, he turned and faced Lucifer, who was merely stood watching him. He held up the pack, giving a small, half-shrug. "You wanna play?"

Lucifer frowned, brown creasing in apparent confusion. "Play what?"

Sam shrugged. "Blackjack, Poker, anything really. Bobby taught me and Dean a load of games when we were kids."

"With these?" Lucifer asked, nodding to the deck of cards, watching as Sam took the stack out of the cardboard packaging. "How do these games work?"

"I'll teach you," Sam said.

He sat down on the bed, gesturing for Lucifer to sit opposite him, much as they had been before.

This was simply something to do, he insisted to himself. They were stuck here forever, so they might as well find a way to keep entertained. He was simply showing Lucifer a few card games, making use of what few supplies they had. It was a simple and practical way of spending time. It could have been any two people.

Drawing in a deep breath, Sam hardened his resolve and nodded. He could do this. Hell, okay. Eternity, he could handle. Lucifer for company, no problem. Though perhaps that lack of issue was an issue in itself...

Deciding not to think to hard on it, Sam shuffled the deck.


	4. Soaring

"Three of a kind."

"Full house."

Sam sighed, collecting up the cards and shuffling them as he shook his head. "For someone whose only just learnt to play, you're damn good at this."

The corner of Lucifer's lips twitched into something that might have been close to a proud smile. "I like to be the best at anything I do," he said.

"Show off," Sam muttered, dealing out the cards again.

"Do humans play this game a lot?"

Sam shrugged. "It's fairly popular. A lot of people go to casinos to play properly, especially in America."

"Casinos?" Lucifer questioned. "Those gambling places?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, people bet money on the games, hope to make an easy fortune, you know."

"Humans," Lucifer muttered. "I never did understand your obsession with material things. You have very strange priorities."

Sam declined to comment.

"Why do people risk what wealth they have?" Lucifer asked. "Surely you'd rather hang onto the thing you value so much?"

"Makes it more exciting, I guess," Sam explained. "You know, a game's more intense if you've got something to lose. Plus winning's surely better if you get something out of it."

Lucifer seemed to consider this. "I suppose," he said. "Would you rather we played with money?"

"Why? You got a secret fortune stashed somewhere?"

Lucifer smirked but shook his head. "As far as I know, there's no money down here. I just wondered, hypothetically, if you'd find it more interesting."

"Doesn't have to be money," Sam said. "Kids at school used to play and bet sweets and stuff."

Lucifer looked pointedly around the room. Sam took the point. There was hardly anything for them to bet, and the stuff was all his (or an illusion of his) anyway. He scanned Lucifer's form, before remembering that that too was an illusion. He hated thinking about it, the familiar uneasy sensation of drifting creeping up on him again.

"We could trade stories or something," he said quickly, ridding himself of the lingering worries. "Like, whoever loses each hand has to say one thing the other didn't know."

Lucifer frowned curiously. "Like what?"

Sam shrugged. "Anything, I suppose. Or maybe if you win a hand, you can ask a question. Like, something you want to know about me?"

There was a brief flash of intrigue on Lucifer's face, but it was quickly covered. "I suppose," he said.

Once they were set up to play again, Sam subconsciously drew in a sharp breath upon seeing his cards. He had a good hand. Four of a kind!

He stopped, chancing a glance up at the archangel who seemed to be focused on his own cards. Lucifer had a very good poker face. He had to admit, the idea of Lucifer asking him personal things made him a little uneasy, though there was a rising curiosity building within him he'd rather not think about, to be able to find out a little more about the devil.

_I could use it as a way to find out some weakness of his_ , he thought, but even in his own head, the argument sounded poor.

"Four of a kind," he blurted, to stop himself thinking any deeper about these things.

Lucifer frowned slightly, throwing his own cards down. "Two pair. Okay, Sammy, ask away."

Sam bit his bottom lip, contemplating. He had no idea what to ask. Not because he couldn't think of anything, but because a million questions came to mind. Head swimming, he decided on something safe. "How old are you?"

For a brief moment, Lucifer merely blinked at him, before smiling slightly.

Sam shifted uneasily. "What?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Just not what I expected you to ask," Lucifer replied calmly, before seeming to think for a few moments. "Time was sort of an irrelevant concept in the beginning," he said. "It was you humans that invented all these devices to obsessively track it. I can't give you an exact answer, but I think you are more interested in knowing simply how long I have been here for, rather than my exact age." He thought for a few moments. "At a rough estimate, I would say I came to be roughly seventy billion years ago."

Sam felt himself pale. Despite the shock, he knew deep down that his brain couldn't quite fully grasp what he had just been told. He knew what the number meant, he knew that that was a very,  _very_  long time, but still he found himself incapable of grasping just  _how_  long such a time was. Stanford felt like an eternity ago to him, and yet it was a mere few years. Lucifer had lived his whole lifetime over countless times. Honestly, it made him feel faint.

Lucifer seemed amused by his reaction. "Need a minute, Sammy?"

Instinctively feeling defensive, he adamantly shook his head. "What? No. I'm fine." He snatched up the cards and shuffled the deck almost violently. "Come on, next round."

Despite their previous records of Lucifer showing an irritating amount of talent for this, Sam had hoped to somehow fluke the entire game and ask all the questions, but sure enough, Lucifer triumphed him with a better hand.

Sam sighed, attempting to look nonchalant. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

Lucifer didn't hesitate, as if he'd had the question formed ready in his mind. "Do I scare you?"

Sam blinked. Lucifer had also seemed surprised by his question, but in a light-hearted sense. This, however, shocked Sam into an uncomfortable stupor. He found himself looking away, tucking his hair back behind his ear to avoid answering a few moments longer. Lucifer didn't seem inclined to rush him. The silence strained for a long while, before he finally blurted his response. "No." He forced himself to glance back over at the being sat opposite him. "At least, I don't feel that you do as much as you maybe should."

He feared Lucifer would ask for elaboration, or use this to further push some other point, but he merely nodded. "I appreciate your honesty, Sammy."

They played on. Lucifer seemed to be either oblivious, or pretending he didn't see Sam's flushed face. Sam was also suspicious of the ease with which he lost the next round, but unsure how- or indeed why- Lucifer could have thrown it, he brushed it off and contemplated his next question.

Deciding Lucifer seemed pretty open to whatever he wanted to know, he chanced a slightly more personal question. "Do you... regret any of it? You know, becoming the devil?"

For a brief moment, Lucifer didn't seem to react. But a slight frowned slowly crept onto his face, despite his best effort. When he spoke, there was something of a strained quality to his voice that made Sam almost regret his question. "No." Lucifer shook his head. "I think, if it were to all happen again, I would make the same choices. What I regret, is not being able to make any other choices. If Michael had even given me the smallest semblance of being willing to listen, I would have done everything I could to persuade him." He raised his head and met Sam's gaze. "They left me with no choice. No one would listen. No one would even consider what I was saying. I've told you before, Sam. I did this because I had to."

Sam found himself nodding. He couldn't agree with Lucifer's action, but he did see where the archangel was coming from. Lucifer had been left with only the options of giving up his opinion, or fighting all out for it. Sam supposed- no matter what evils it had motivated him to do- he couldn't blame Lucifer for standing up for what he believed in.

"Do you think I'm wrong?" Lucifer asked.

"Not your turn to ask a question," Sam found himself saying, before he even had time to contemplate whether he should be joking with the devil.

Lucifer smiled, sliding the cards he'd been holding back into a pile and stacking them on top of the others. "I always enjoyed our special little chats, Sammy." He met the hunter's gaze. "It may seem minor in comparison to everything I was trying to do, but your acceptance has always been something that genuinely means a lot to me."

Sam folded his own cards back into one pile, staring blankly down at the top one. Ace of hearts. "I know." He sighed. "You know, even after everything, all the horrific stuff I've seen, with the beings we hunt, it's the... compassion some show I find the most unsettling." He glanced up at Lucifer. "I've met vampires and werewolves that didn't want to hurt people. Demons and angel that just wanted to blend in with the world." He almost smiled. "Honestly, I thought you- if anyone- could be relied on to simply be bad. But you... you came to me in that dream and you just... you actually seemed to care about how I felt. Sure, you were planning to use me, to do all these bad things, but you wanted me to understand why." He met Lucifer's gaze. "Right?"

The archangel nodded. "I know you still don't quite get it, Sam. But I'm glad you at least understand that I  _wanted_  you to understand."

Sam sighed. "I wish I didn't," he admitted. His tone hardened slightly, words forcing themselves out between gritted teeth. "I don't want to be like you, Lucifer. I don't want to understand you."

"But you do," Lucifer said calmly.

Sam's shoulders drooped, head hanging low so his hair shadowed his face. He said nothing, but his failure to argue spoke volumes.

"Sam," Lucifer said softly, almost sighing the word. "We are quite possibly in the worst place in all of creation. Even if I could come up with some ulterior motive, there is hardly anything I can do down here. I don't want anything from you, but I do appreciate your company." He paused. "Unless you would rather be alone?"

Sam pursed his lips, still reluctant to give Lucifer any leeway, but he had to admit, the archangel had a point. "No," he said eventually. "I don't want to be alone down here."

"This tension is only marginally better," Lucifer pointed out.

Sam sighed.

"All I'm asking is that you talk to me, Sammy."

Sam contemplated. Devil or not, it was hardly an unreasonable request. And Lucifer was right, they  _were_  in Hell already, and even if Lucifer gave into his worst instincts, the effects he could cause from this prison were minimal.

"Okay," Sam found himself saying. "I get it. And you're right. I don't want to be alone, and I can't exactly just carry on with this small talk for all of eternity." He drew in a deep breath, shoulders rising. "You're willing to try to get along, so I am, too."

The corner of Lucifer's lips twitched into a smile. "I'm pleased to hear that, Sammy."

Sam frowned slightly. "Only Dean gets to call me that."

Lucifer looked a little displeased at the restriction, but merely shrugged in what Sam supposed was agreement.

Sam exhaled, pushing himself to try to at least appear relax in hopes that the genuine feeling would follow. He busied himself with packing the cards away for a few moments, before looking up at Lucifer. "Got any decent stories? We might as well get to know each other a little better. No card games necessary this time."

Lucifer smiled, shifting position slightly so his hands were braced behind him. "I have a few millennia's worth to choose from. Where do you want me to begin?"

 

* * *

 

 

Sam had begun to listen with merely the polite intention to give Lucifer a chance. But as the devil spun out tales of eons ago, of other worlds, or great celestial events, Sam found himself enraptured.

"Wait," he cut in, desperate for details. "So space used to be empty?"

"Space has always been there," Lucifer explained. "In the literal sense, that's what it is. Just space, a vast area that goes on forever. It was something of a blank canvas, I suppose. Everything was blank to start with. Even Heaven was rather empty, before there were more of us to occupy it, more created. That's what creation is, simply filling space."

Sam nodded eagerly. "Okay, so space as in..." He gestured upward, feeling slightly stupid as he wasn't even sure where the sky was in regards to hell. "You know, space up there. Where did all the planets and stars come from? Like, how were they made? Was there really a big bang?"

Lucifer smiled, seeming amused by his eagerness. "Yes. It's absurd to say that Father having created everything contradicts your science. If Father created everything, he made science, too."

"So He made the big bang happen?"

Lucifer nodded. "He created the matter. He let it come together and interact and then simply grow. I don't know if He knew what it would all become. But He started it all, everything you see, He... planted the seeds, so to speak."

"Wow," Sam whispered. "So... did you see all this happen?"

"I did." Lucifer seemed amused by his awe. "It was beautiful."

"What about life? I mean, you guys already existed, and leviathans, too, right? But I mean, life down here. Did God, you know, spark that off as well?"

Again, Lucifer nodded. "We didn't know His full plan at the time. We simply watched. There was suddenly all these worlds below, planets forming. Earth..." He trailed off briefly, seeming distracted.

Sam wondered if he was remembering it as it was then. He couldn't imagine earth without people and animals, without even great lands and buildings.

"He intended it as a habitat," Lucifer continued finally. "We weren't told. But He sent us down with jobs to do." He paused, glancing over at Sam. "You have to understand, it was lifeless then. It was night. Always."

"How come?" Sam asked, wide-eyed.

"There were no stars," Lucifer explained. "So He sent us down. We were to light this universe. He told us to create them, to weave together the molecules that would form them. So we did. I flew with my brothers and sisters, and we lit up the darkness of space."

He stopped talking there, but Sam felt there was more it than that. That story alone made his head spin, but he was sure there was something Lucifer was not telling him.

Noticing Sam staring at him eagerly, Lucifer sighed and continued. "I was leading some of my younger brothers when my Father called me back to him." Lucifer's expression hardened slightly, as if this were something he was reluctant to remember. "I returned instantly, of course. To be called to him alone, it was always the greatest honour."

"What did he want you for?" Sam asked, attempting to picture the scene in his head. He was painfully aware he was incapable of imaging such a thing. Even picturing Lucifer, in his true form and without a vessel, was damn near impossible, let alone to imagine God himself.

"He said I had a very important job," Lucifer continued quietly. "He told me to create another star. A large star, much closer to the planets. He told me to bring the morning..." Lucifer's voice had taken on a reflective tone. He barely seemed to remember Sam was there. "There was no such word then. There is no Enochian word. But I went to create this star He wanted. I worked so hard at it. I wanted to please Father. I worked until finally the matter gathered and expanded and it began to glow. It's light was so strong it shone down on the planets. The planets were pulled toward it. They began to orbit. The little earth was third in line. We didn't know it then, but it was perfectly placed, balanced for a purpose bigger than we could imagine."

Sam's head was ringing. He could almost see the stars dancing before his eyes. He felt like he was soaring through space with them.

"You... you made the sun?" Sam blurted. "I mean, the actual sun? Like the one that's still there now?"

Lucifer smiled briefly at his shock, blue eyes shimmering in amusement. "People might think a little better of me, I suppose, if they knew I was to be credited for that bit of handiwork." He shook his head slightly, smile dropping a little. "Morningstar," he said. "a clever guy like you, Sam, I'm sure you know that name's attributed to me. Light Bringer, Bringer of Dawn."

"Wow," Sam nodded. "I suppose that does make sense."

Lucifer said nothing. To Sam surprise, he spread his legs forward a little so they were bent at the knee, the heels of his boots resting on the bed as he dropped back so he was lying on top of the covers, staring upward at the phantom image of the bedroom ceiling.

Sam was unsure what to do or say next. He felt inclined to move, that though Lucifer wasn't touching him, this casualness was too intimate. He told himself that was silly, remaining stiffly seated as he was, studying the realness of the fabric of Lucifer's jeans where his legs rested close to Sam's own folded ones.

"You okay?" Sam found himself arguing.

Lucifer seemed to shrug. "It's strange," he admitted. "Talking about all this."

"It's strange hearing it," Sam responded, giving a short, nervous laugh.

Lucifer smiled. "I'll stop if you would prefer."

"No," Sam said, almost blushing at how quickly the word spilt from his lips. "It's... it's all really amazing. Please, carry on."

Lucifer shifted a little, seeming to settle, before once again drawing Sam's mind into visions of eons ago and wondrous tales of the dawn of time.


	5. Swimming

"Would you have still done it?" Sam asked, now sat leaning back against the headboard. "If you'd known the sun would give us life. Would you have refused?"

Lucifer seemed to contemplate this. "I knew nothing of what was to come then. I was happy to do anything my Father asked," he said. "I had brought His light to this earth. I made the first morning. It took so much of my power Michael had to carry me half the way back to Heaven. We were all happy, though. It was beautiful this creation. And it was spreading. Things began to grow on the earth. Plants, the earth was breathing, forming it's own creations." He paused, forehead creasing with a frown. "Even then, we didn't consider such sentient beings every coming to be down there."

Sam imagined himself looking down at some strange petri dish of a new world. What must it have been like, seeing life grow?

"Father let us go down and wander the earth as we pleased. It was a pleasant place. We all loved it. But before we took our first trip, He called Michael to him. When he returned, I asked him what Father had said, but Michael wouldn't tell me much. I presume now Father charged him with merely making sure none of us accidentally blew the whole plan." Lucifer was looking down at his hands. He flexed his right fingers out.

Sam wondered if he was thinking about how he could have put an end to earth's life then and there. He couldn't imagine that Lucifer, one so unblemished, so innocent of his own fate, before the world 'devil' even existed.

"We considered the earth merely a wonderful place to roam," Lucifer said. "The trees had grown tall now, the ground shifting, forming slowly into formations of rock and soil. But slowly, we noticed the life. Bacteria, merely, at first. The life started in the seas, little creatures that we would watch swimming for hours. I asked Michael if he'd known this would happen, and he said Father told him life would be here one day."

"What did you think?" Sam found himself asking.

Lucifer looked surprised at the question, before shrugging. "I thought it fascinating. I admired everything my Father did. I sat with Michael once for days, watching these little tadpoles swim. We watched them grow. We watched the first evolutions. I wanted to know more about them, what it was all for."

"Did God tell you? I mean, did He ever let you in on what he'd planned?"

Lucifer shook his head. "Michael seemed to know everything by then. But whenever I asked, Father told me to watch, to observe and learn." He paused. "I think that was the first thing that unsettled me, not knowing."

"Did any of the others seemed worried?"

"No," Lucifer replied. "They didn't seem to care why. Michael told the younger angels to be respectful, to simply observe. It was a strange order for us. It was like we were waiting."

"Long wait," Sam commented.

"Time was no matter to us," Lucifer said airily. "All these new creatures kept growing. There were insects, and all these fish. I started wondering more and more. I wanted to know where it was all going."

Sam could very well imagine such a thing with Lucifer. Between Lucifer and all the other angels Sam had met, there was some odd questioning nature about Lucifer. Sam wondered why he was so different, so much more curious than the others. He wondered if God had intended it.

"Did you ask God?"

Lucifer nodded, still staring up at the ceiling. "He told me what would be would be," he said mildly. "I worried. I wasn't happy with that. I joined some of my siblings back on earth and it started storming. I think now maybe I caused it." He paused, seeming briefly lost in his memories, before continuing. "We were stood on a shoreline. And there was this one little fish, and it crawled out of the water. There were some of very young angels with us. I remember Michael telling one of them not to step on the fish, that there was big plans for it."

Sam could picture it, a small little creature with barely formed limbs crawling along on the path to evolution.

Lucifer was watching him, head tilted slightly to the side so he could see Sam from his reclined position. "Okay there, Sammy?"

Mutely, he nodded. "Just a little... overwhelmed," he confessed. There was a pause. "And I said not to call me that."

Lucifer merely nodded, turning back to face the ceiling. "I suppose that's enough story time for now. You should get some rest."

Sam glanced over at him curiously. "Do I need sleep? Down here, I mean."

Lucifer shrugged. "It'll likely help you to keep composed. You should be able to. Human souls benefit from rest as much as the body does."

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked.

"I'll wait," Lucifer said simply.

Sam frowned uneasily. "Won't you get bored?"

The corner of Lucifer's lips twitched upward as if he were amused. "I waited down here all that time for you, Sam. Letting you sleep for a few hours is really no problem."

Sam looked away uncomfortably, contemplating if he should see if there were any other clothes in the wardrobe when he realised he'd subconsciously willed himself into sleeping attire. Sighing, still unused to the strange shifting reality of Hell, he moved to lie down before he realised Lucifer was still stretched out on the bed.

"Erm... could you... move?"

Lucifer looked up at him curiously. "There's space for you to get in," he said factually.

Sam felt a blush creeping up his neck. "Yes," he said tersely. "But you can't..." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'd prefer it if you weren't on the bed while I sleep."

Lucifer looked slightly displeased, but got to his feet nonetheless, crossing the room and dropping down into the rickety chair beside the bookcase.

Feeling distinctly self-conscious, Sam climbed under the covers, turning his back to the archangel because he felt too uncomfortable to look at him. Having Lucifer sat there staring at him wasn't a much better option, but surely anything was more appropriate than sharing the bed.

Shuffling a little to try and get comfortable, Sam closed his eyes, images of the stories of creation Lucifer had told him drifting through his mind.

* * *

He'd been dreaming. He'd dreamt he was flying through space, forming light in his hands and making it into something wonderful. He'd been happy and proud and his brothers and sisters had been there and they'd been proud of him, too. And the stars were shining now, lighting up the universe and all of creation...

His eyes opened and he was looking at them.

Lucifer was stood beside him, turning his head slowly to gaze around in distinct surprise.

"What...?" Sam clambered to his feet, sure he had been lying on a bed but looking down to find nothing beneath his feet. He panicked, pawing at the air, before mentally scolding himself. Hadn't they been through this? It was Hell, and he was only falling if he let himself believe that.  _Stop. You're fine_ , he told himself, sure enough quickly finding his footing.

"How did you do this?" Lucifer asked, staring off into the distance.

Sam frowned, head snapping up. "Me? I didn't do anything. This is hardly one of my memories. I haven't been to space, you know."

"No," Lucifer said softly. "It's my memory, but the thought power to change the scene came from you. I felt it."

"...Oh." Sam hunched his shoulder uncertainly. "Maybe because you were telling me about it?"

Lucifer glanced back at him. "It's strange you could summon an entire landscape just from that." He seemed to contemplate for a few moments. "Our connection is even stronger than even I imagined."

Sam pursed his lips, unsure how to feel about that. He could hardly deny it, with this huge image floating around them that he'd somehow plucked from Lucifer's mind.

"When we were one being, we could see all of each other then," Lucifer continued. "We've always had a connection, Sam, but I suppose finally being together like that had strengthened it."

Sam looked away, unable to stop feeling a little awed as he studied a cluster of stars twinkling off to his far right. "There's no connection," he mumbled weakly.

Lucifer sighed, seeming to brush off the comment, attributing it to Sam's stubbornness as he approached the hunter. "Well, this isn't too bad a place to be, I suppose." He pointed slightly downwards toward the left. "You can see the earth."

Fascinated, Sam looked to where Lucifer was indicating, eyes widening as he saw the little orb in the distance. It wasn't blue and green like every plastic globe and printed picture, though Sam supposed it looked like that now, in the real world. Instead, here in this little snippet of time, it was darker, dry-looking and sandy-coloured.

"This is unreal," Sam whispered.

"Technically yes," Lucifer commented, looking somewhat amused, as Sam glared at him. "But the real thing is truly this wondrous."

Sam looked down, seeing only a further endless void of stars. He moved one foot around experimentally. "What are we standing on?"

"You'll only fall if you think you're going. The physics here are all in your mind, Sam, like I keep telling you."

"Oh." He raised his head, breathing hitching when he found Lucifer much closer than he expected, stood right beside him, so for a moment Sam's vision was obstructed completely by blue eyes. He leant back slightly, intending to step away but finding his feet had no desire to move. He was surely close enough to feel Lucifer's breath on his face, but he couldn't. Then again, perhaps there just was no breath to feel. This wasn't Lucifer as he truly was now. True-form angels probably didn't need to breathe.

Clearing his throat a little awkwardly, Sam turned away, tilting his head back to watch the surreal world shifting around them.

The non-floor was equally possible to sit down on. What surprised him was that it was Lucifer who first sat cross-legged, as if this were all completely natural. It took a surprisingly short amount of time before Sam joined him.

It might have been hours that passed, days even, or perhaps just a few minutes, but Sam felt in those moments a sense of contention that shouldn't have been possible within Hell.

"Did you often do stuff like this?" Sam asked, voice quite, as if he were afraid making too much noise would shatter the tranquility.

Lucifer was silent for a few moments, seemingly contemplating, before answering. "Sometimes," he said vaguely. "When I could. Remember, creating such scenes requires a focus on happier memories."

Sam looked over at him with a frown. "But you can do it, right? I mean, you seem to find it easy, from what I've seen. You thought up that hotel room for us originally."

Lucifer's lips curled upwards only slightly in something of a smile. However, there was an almost sad quality about it that somehow unnerved Sam. It wasn't a look any devil should have. "Down here alone," he mused. "It was hard, at times, to even remember what happiness was like, let alone remain in the right mindset to create an illusion of it."

"I see," Sam muttered, unable to meet Lucifer's eyes. He tried to tell himself the discomfort he felt was over imagining the idea of millennia alone down here, rather than the fact that Lucifer was so much happier in his presence.

It was so quiet it felt as if the world had stopped. He remembered vaguely something about sound in space, or a lack there of, but what did physics matter right now? He was quite literally staring up at the universe, floating in space without fear of drifting off or suffocating.

When he was a kid, he'd actually got to go on a field trip with one of his schools. Dad had refused initially, but Dean had given him the money for it. They went to an observatory. They'd learnt all about stars and constellations, and there had been a big room with a huge projection of space on the ceiling. The class had to sit on benches while their tour guide gave a speech on astronomy, but Sam had wanted to lie on the floor and stare up at all the twinkling patters and details. He would have been happy to lie there for hours.

He lay back now, marveling at the lack of anything holding him up. He was swimming in the air, like floating on water. He felt like he could maybe kick his legs and swim upward, right up to one of the stars to hold it.

Beside him, he saw Lucifer had lain back too, eyes roaming the scenery with a surprisingly look of tranquility that was unfamiliar with him. He looked... peaceful.

Studying the little distance orb of the earth once more, Sam contemplated just how small it was. Everything looked small, and that was only because they were so far from it. But that distance was the overwhelming thing, just all this... space. It was a void. They could easily drown in it. Well, he could. Lucifer was something so much more. But it made him realise, painfully, his own smallness, his own insignificance. Sam Winchester had never considered himself particularly important, but looking at it all now, in the scheme of things, it struck him- the irrelevance of everything. The things he sweated over, dwelled on. God, in the scheme of things, it just didn't  _matter_.

"It matters to me," Lucifer said suddenly.

Sam looked over at him, finding the archangel's head turned to the side to face him.

"You matter to me," Lucifer continued. "I've been here so long, Sam. I've seen all this, witnessed so much, even been a part of it. Even with everything there is in all its greatness, you mattered to me. You always will."

He felt foolish as the tears wet his cheeks. Heck, he wasn't even sure why he was crying. He felt tired and dizzy and drained with it all. Raising one hand, he rubbed harshly at his eyes, lips pursed, staring blearily upward, at anything in the universe other than Lucifer. "God, I wish you'd stop saying things like that," he choked out, the words leaving him in one breathless rush.

"I said I'd never lie to you."

Sam gave a half laugh, half sob, shoulders shaking, hands trembling as he shook his head, more to himself than anything. "Dammnit, Lucifer..."

_This is crazy_ , he kept thinking.  _Completely damn crazy. I'm in hell, with the devil, and looking up at the stars and it's wonderful._

Lucifer seemed displeased at his distress, head still turned to the side as he watched him with a frown of discontent. Slowly, he reached out, finding Sam's limp hand by his side- the other still wiping his eyes- and wrapped his fingers round Sam's own.

Sam said nothing, exhaled in one long, shaky sigh, and squeezed Lucifer's hand.


	6. Slipping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update, blame uni stuff. Things finally start getting a bit more Samifer-y this chapter. Also, yes, there is a blatant Thor/Avengers reference...

 

"This is... totally amazing. I mean...  _Wow_. It's..."

"Asgard."

" _Yeah_. Like, right out of an old story book."

Sam's head was spinning. He kept looking around, staring at the buildings, the glittering objects of another world. There were on the Bifrost, the damn rainbow bridge right out of mythology. "Where are all the people?"

Lucifer, stood near the edge of the bridge and looking down at the rushing watery depths below, seemed to choose his words carefully before answering. "I'd advise you not to imagine up any people in Hell, Sam. Places and objects are stable, mostly. Hell takes people and twists them. Any image of a person you see would likely turn on you, or shift into something horrible. It's something of a natural nature, I suppose, that what we fear most is the actions of other living creatures."

Sam nodded slowly. He could understand that. Chains and fiery pits were one thing, but seeing another sentient being do horrid things was something else altogether. People involved so many emotions, reasons, consciousness that made bad things all the more bad when you thought about the why and the how things were happening. Both seeing someone else be tortured, and seeing another person torturing were horribly unsettling. Lifeless things without thought or purpose were so much easier to deal with. You couldn't blame a razor for slicing into your skin, the horror was in the person wielding it who had chosen to do such a thing.

"Just you and me, huh?" Sam muttered, stepping up to Lucifer's side. "No matter where we go."

Lucifer glanced over at him. "You seem to be becoming a little less resentful of the idea." He left the comment open.

Sam said nothing.

A couple of minutes of silence passed, though not uncomfortably. Sam continued walking along the bridge, until they were right into the city with all its glinting buildings. God, it looked like some alien planet out of a movie.

"When did you come here?" Sam asked, as this was, of course, just another memory world.

"Eons ago," Lucifer replied, strolling at his side, hands in his pockets. "It was just Gabriel and I."

Sam raised both eyebrows curiously. "Huh."

Lucifer glanced over at him. "What?"

Sam shrugged. "It's just... weird. Imagining you and Gabriel, like brothers, just doing stuff together. No apocalypse, no fighting, and you were..." He trailed off, suddenly awkward, but Lucifer knew what he meant.

"Not the devil."

"...Yeah." He cleared his throat to fill the silence, attempting to turn the conversation back to its more light-hearted tone. "What did you and Gabriel do here?"

Lucifer lead him to a clear opening with overhanging trees. It was a garden. They sat side-by-side on a small, pale stone bench. "We were ambassadors of sorts," Lucifer finally continued. "Spreading our Father's love. I didn't like much that some of these beings also referred to themselves in the sense of gods, but I held my tongue and mingled with them nonetheless." Something of a smile touched his lips. "Gabriel got drunk on their ale. He started doing silly tricks with his powers and got into a competition with one of the princes, Loki."

Sam instantly latched onto the connection. "Gabriel used that name for himself," he said. "When we first met him, he pretended to be a trickster. All those Pagan gods, they referred to him as Loki like they really thought he was him."

"Yes," Lucifer said slowly. "I heard about that. Gabriel always had a soft spot for the pagans."

"Surely they knew it wasn't the actual Loki, right? I mean, Odin was there."

Lucifer shrugged. "Technically, it was," he said. "Loki became Gabriel's vessel. Gabriel merely acted like Loki while inside him. They were similar enough in personality already anyway."

Sam couldn't keep the surprise off of his face. "But vessels are supposed to be human, surely?"

"There is only one god, Sam," Lucifer replied calmly. "Only we and my Father's other creatures proceeded you humans. Your other  _'gods'_  came from human thought, twisted early human streams of evolution that broke off and developed powers of their own. But the core being is still the same."

"But some other religions claim their figureheads are far older than the human race."

Lucifer shook his head. "Information has been twisted. What you humans know about other beings is incredibly limited and inaccurate. Some of these creatures even try and encourage the inaccuracies. Talking themselves up, I suppose. They evolved much sooner into what they are, so technically they were before modern day humans, but they all began at the same time."

Sam nodded slowly. "I see. Wow..." He shifted a little on the bench, head facing forward, though his gaze strayed to study Lucifer out of the corner of his eyes, every so often. "Gabriel must have taken a vessel really early, huh?"

"Yes," Lucifer said. "But compatible vessels are... something of a delight to angels. There's a connection. Loki and Gabriel were something of kindred sprits, it was obvious from the start."

_Kindred spirits_. Sam abruptly noticed he was sitting in the exact same pose as Lucifer and purposefully crossed his legs for the sake of difference.

"But you know all that already," Lucifer said. He didn't look at him, but the weight of his words laid heavily on Sam.

A few moments longer of silence passed, before Lucifer stood. "Have you seen enough for today? We should find somewhere to make ourselves comfortable for a while. I imagine you are tired."

Sam shrugged loosely, standing alongside the archangel. "Back to the room at Bobby's?"

Lucifer gave a vague nod. "It matters little to me, Sam. See if you can conjure the image. You should practice."

Sam gave a small motion of agreement, tensing his shoulders as he focused on the good feelings associated with the place, closing his eyes in concentration as he felt a shift in the physics around him.

When he opened his eyes, he was at Bobby's.

Sam grinned, unable to help but feel proud of himself. There was a distinct sense of satisfaction with being able to master some control over Hell. Maybe he could survive this after all. As long as he knew his fears, surely all he had to do was keep them in check.

"Very good, Sam," Lucifer muttered, not missing the hunter's slight flush as he busied himself with mentally changing his clothes to be ready for bed.

Sam climbed under the covers, vaguely aware Lucifer had taken the seat by the bed once more, as he settled down and closed his eyes.

* * *

Lucifer had climbed into bed with him. He was awoken by the archangel's hands gripping his thighs, using them as support as he bobbed his head up and down, mouth tight around the length of Sam's cock.

Gasping, face flushed, Sam arched against the mattress, hips shaking as he tried to press himself deeper into the wondrous, skilled cavern of Lucifer's mouth. A choked moan forced its way up and out of his mouth, hands clenching the at the bed covers, scrambling for control and failing horribly.

Lucifer's tongue teased and caressed him. Oh god, it really  _was_  forked. The two ends nearly brought him over the edge, desperate whimpers escaping his mouth as he shakily managed to lift a hand to grip Lucifer's hair as best he could. It was almost too short, coarse and blond and somehow beautiful in that rugged, powerful way he had always associated with Lucifer.

"Luce..." He raised his head, face flushed as his unfocused eyes ran over the sight of Lucifer's broad shoulders, his dipped head under Sam's hand with its blond crop of hair, his strong hands on his thighs. "I've wanted this for so long."

Slowly, Lucifer lifted his head, releasing Sam's burning length and making the hunter almost cry out in frustration. He looked up and met Sam's gaze. "Oh Sam," he said, head tilted to the side, smiling, eyes narrowed. "You really think I could love you like this."

It felt like something had ripped deep inside his chest. The sudden hurt was so bad he screamed, lashing out at the air as if to push what had just happened away. He wanted to run, but he couldn't move. He was screaming and crying, and the Lucifer between his legs was gone, but someone was grabbing his shoulder, saying something, shaking him.

"...Sam...  _Sam!_ "

He blinked, disorientated, still trembling as slowly his brain caught up to make out the shape of Lucifer before him, staring down at him. He choked out a sob before he could stop himself, shaking his head, expecting scorn but receiving none. "Where am... What...?"

"It wasn't real," Lucifer said firmly. "Whatever you saw, it wasn't real."

_I wanted it to be,_  something in his mind said before he could stop it. Pressing his lips together as if to stop himself saying something (though he had no idea what), Sam nodded, chest heaving as he sucked in deep to try and calm himself.  _What was that? What the hell was that? I don't want..._

For the briefest moment, Lucifer's gaze met his, blue eyes catching the light and flashing with something otherworldly, something of not being human. Something more. Sam felt his chest tighten. It stirred memories within him he'd been trying to suppress, the thrill that he didn't quite dare think about, the 'exhilaration'- as Lucifer had called it- of when they'd been one entity.

The thoughts were threatening to swallow him. Briefly, he realised that the were back in the old hotel room where Lucifer had first appeared to him. His unhinged thoughts had likely effected the phantom landscape, so Lucifer must have brought them back here, rather than letting them fall back into the horrid cavern of Hell in its raw form.

The archangel was half-kneeling on the bed, one leg tucked under him on the mattress, the other hanging off the side. He was studying Sam as if trying to work something out, possibly what he was thinking, head tilted a little to the side and eyes slightly narrowed.

Sam found himself utterly unable to look at him, staring down at his hands in his lap, picking at one fingernail like a nervous schoolgirl.

"You know you can always ask me questions, Sam," Lucifer said eventually, breaking the silence. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Sam sighed, raising his head only slightly. "How does this place... you know,  _Hell_... How does it get into your mind like that? How does it know how to torture you, or to change the landscape? I mean, how's it all  _work?_ "

Lucifer seemed to consider his wording before answering. "You humans are too used to the physical," he said. "You rely too much on your sciences. You know that thoughts are sparks of electric signals across your brain, but you hardly stop to think just what thoughts are. They're the voice of your soul, Sam. What you think, how you feel, comes from within your soul. Your brain is just a processor. Here, without your body, your soul is laid bare and Hell can get at those thoughts as easily as reading them from an open book."

Sam thought over the information. "Right," he said slowly. "But how does it know how to use it?"

"Souls are surprisingly easy to read," Lucifer said. "Hell simply extracts the images of your fears for your mind and recreates them around you."

"Okay, but could it..."

Lucifer frowned curiously. "What?"

Sam sighed again. "Could it get things wrong? You know, like, accidentally throw something at you muddled up? I mean, does Hell ever get confused?"

Lucifer looked almost amused by the idea. "No. It understands perfectly everything you think and feel. That's why if you focus on a good place, a happy place, and what makes it happy, it can't make it something bad because that's not what it is to you."

Sam could feel the blush creeping onto his face, desperately trying to will it away as he choked out his next words. "So, if you saw something... pleasant and then Hell twisted it against you and it was, you know, hurtful and upsetting, then-"

"It's a common trick down here," Lucifer said. "It doesn't just extract simple fears as they are, it uses your greatest loves and desires and associates the fears with them. It hurts more that way." He ran his gaze over Sam, who still wasn't looking at him. "What did you see, Sam?"

"Nothing," Sam said, a little too quickly. "It doesn't matter."

Lucifer pointedly raised both eyebrows at him. "You're asking a lot of questions for something that doesn't matter."

Sam said nothing.

Lucifer never seemed to share in any of the awkwardness of these moments, either oblivious to it, or simply unaffected. Perhaps he was simply too proud to feel any kind of embarrassment, while simple humans squirmed in the slightest moment of uncertainty.

Eventually, Sam forced himself to look up at him. "What do you see?" he asked.

Lucifer merely shifted his expression to one of a remotely questioning nature, cleaning requesting for Sam to elaborate.

"I mean down here," Sam said. "You're used to it now, but-"

"You never get used to Hell, Sam," Lucifer said, voice suddenly serious. "It's Hell."

Sam tried to suppress the unease those words gave him toward his own fate of eternity down here, forcing the feelings aside for now to return to his original point. "Okay, but you're pretty good with this managing it thing, right? I just wanted to know... what do you see? When you first came down here, or... now even?" He wondered if he was pressing it and Lucifer would react badly to any suggestion of weakness.

However, the archangel merely looked away contemplatively. Silence reigned for a few moments, before he finally replied. "At first," he began, "all those... long,  _long_  years ago, I saw my brothers, my sisters, Father. I saw them turning their backs on me again, over and over. I thought I could hear them up in Heaven, talking about me, saying they'd never loved me, that I never belonged. For... eons I saw Michael turning on me again and again." He paused, eyes downcast. "I thought that was the worst, as bad as it got."

Sam didn't miss the implication. "You saw something worse than that?"

For such a long time, Lucifer didn't answer, until Sam thought that he never would. The hunter was just about to change the subject, intending to break the silence for the mere sake of it, when Lucifer spoke up again.

"When I learnt of you, Sam, you became everything to me."

Sam couldn't help but blush. Lucifer said the words as if they were simply certain fact, as if there was no possible way things could be any different.

"You can dream down here," Lucifer continued. "As you may have discovered. I dreamt of you, and you were beautiful because you understood me in a way no one else could, and when I explained things, as I'd tried and tried to Michael and my other siblings, you didn't look at me like I was wrong. You understood that, too."

He paused again, and Sam wondered where this was going to turn into the 'something worse' Lucifer had said.

"But then I started seeing you, and they'd got to you..." He didn't specify who he meant, but Sam supposed he was referring to Dean and others. "They'd turned you against me beyond all hope, kept you sheltered, something weak and feeble that couldn't possibly understand. And you feared me."

Sam said nothing, unsure how to feel about the fact that Lucifer didn't even need to point out just how unafraid Sam had indeed been of the devil.

"It was my worst fear, Sam," Lucifer carried on, voice deep and soft. "That you would come out... wrong. That you wouldn't have the insight, the intelligence, the depth, to see what I needed you to see. That you would be ignorant, like those in Heaven who could only blindly follow orders." His gaze ran slowly over Sam, unashamed in it's pure admiration. "Hell haunted me with that idea, but you didn't let me down, Sam. You were as smart and capable of thinking for yourself as I could have possibly hoped."

For several long moments, Sam merely sat, glaring down at his lap as he thought over Lucifer's words. "Why are you telling me all this?" he asked eventually. "I didn't... you know, think you were one for admitting weakness."

Lucifer smiled rather whimsically. "I don't consider my care for you a weakness, Sam. Besides, I told you, Hell knows. You can't lie to it. And, likewise, I said I'd never lie to you."

"Can you see?" Sam asked. "When... If Hell gets inside my head and pulls all this... this stuff out? Can you see it?"

The corner of Lucifer's lips twitched in some kind of amusement. "Why? Something you don't want me to see, Sammy?"

Sam looked away. "I'm going back to sleep."

He lay down once more, shuffling under the bed covers, shifting a little to get comfortable. His leg brushed something and he realised Lucifer was still sat on the bed. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, internally insisting to himself that just because he hadn't told Lucifer to move, it didn't mean he wanted him there either.


	7. Consuming

Hell seemed to have realised that chains and fire pits weren't doing the trick anymore, so it had gone for a new angle of torture. Within the past... well, it felt like a few hours, but who knew how long it had been down here, Sam had thought he'd felt Lucifer's hand on his crotch upon waking, felt Lucifer press up against his back, only to turn and find him a few feet away, and been sure he'd heard Lucifer ask to kiss him, and had embarrassingly blurted "what?", to which Lucifer had frowned and insisted he hadn't said anything.

These events were, of course, accompanied by harsh bites of his own consciousness, telling him that he wasn't good enough to be loved by anyone, even the devil. Something within him tried to argue that he shouldn't  _want_ to be loved by the devil, but deep down, he knew the hopes of denying their connection were long gone. Denial could only stretch so far. He'd felt connected to Lucifer from the beginning, but he'd never thought about their relationship like this before. Or rather, never let himself think about it like this.

"How long are you planning to lie there?"

Sam sighed, not bothering to turn over to face Lucifer stood on the other side of the bed. "We're in Hell," he muttered. "Can't I take an off day?"

"Oh, now that's no fun, Sammy."

Sam hunched his shoulders, unsure how to feel about Lucifer teasing him. There was something undoubtedly playful about Lucifer's tone, and Sam felt a flush creeping across his face, suddenly very grateful he hadn't turned over.

"Sam?" Lucifer's voice was somewhat more serious now, even a touch concerned, though perhaps he was imagining that.

Sam felt the bed dip as the archangel sat on the edge of the mattress.

"Sam? Are you seeing things again? For what it's worth, I would advise you to tell me. Hell likes to isolate you. Keeping things to yourself is only keeping it between you and Hell for a personal torture session."

Sam hunched his shoulder forward, unsure of how to respond. Lucifer seemed to be genuinely trying to help, and that in itself was confusing enough, without the issue of thinking how he could possibly explain what exactly he had been seeing. Eventually, he sighed, forcing himself to turn onto his back to look at Lucifer.

The archangel stared calmly back at him, blue eyes seemingly endless. They appeared to catch the light, but even the phantom image of the bedside lamp in the room only cast a faint glow. Lucifer seemed to glow from within.

"I just... I'm just kind of down, I suppose." He gave a small shrug. "I mean, we  _are_  in Hell." He tried to make it sound like a joke, but it didn't quiet come out right.

Lucifer had the courtesy to give a small amused smile, though perhaps he was simply more amused at Sam himself than anything.

Sighing, Sam sat up, leaning back on his hands. "It could be worse," he continued, not even sure whether he was still joking or not. This  _was_  Hell, yet he was holding it together somehow. There  _were_  surely worse things, than being plagued with the idea that- of everything- the  _devil_  didn't love him.

"It could," Lucifer said. "You could be alone."

"Yeah." The response fell from Sam's lips before he could stop it, and honestly, it surprised him just how much he meant it. There was a simmering gratitude for Lucifer's company building within him, and he knew he shouldn't feel such a thing, but it was there.

Looking up, he found the archangel's gaze had never strayed from him, and Sam fought the urge to sigh once more.

He knew he was past the point of becoming accustomed to Lucifer's presence. Worse, he was perhaps even starting to enjoy it.

"I love you, too, Sam."

He jumped, eyes snapping to Lucifer's face, but the archangel seemed impassive, though there was a small, growing frown of concern creeping onto his features. Either way, he was assured that Lucifer hadn't actually spoken. Hell's tricks again.

"Penny for your thoughts, Sam?"

Shaking his head slightly to make himself focus, Sam pushed his wonderings aside, though only for different ones. He needed to distract himself, and this was something he had been wondering anyway. "When you were down here before? Could you see me? Up on earth, I mean."

Lucifer was silent for a few moments, before answering. "Not directly. The point of this place is isolation, Sammy. Even communicating from here is difficult. It was Azazel-" he ignored Sam's flinch at the name- "who finally found both where I was and how to talk to me. Ritualistic sacrifice, you wouldn't want to hear about it. But I managed to speak with him."

"To say what?"

"I knew by then how things were to happen. I knew that you were to be, Sam. And it was all I could think about. This was 1972, before you existed. I was preparing for you before you were even an idea in your parents' minds. I sent Azazel to find you, to watch over you-"

"To give me demon blood," Sam couldn't help but cut in, face contorting in clear discomfort at the idea.

"To make you strong," Lucifer insisted. "Humans are weak, Sam. You are more than that."

Sam wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he settled for saying nothing.

"He would report back to me when he could. He told me about you; what you looked like, what you liked and didn't like. I insisted on a running commentary of your life. I wanted to know you were okay. It was the best I could do, you have to understand that, Sam, while I couldn't watch over you myself."

Again, Sam didn't know how to answer, seeming both stunned and unsure, so Lucifer mercifully changed the subject.

"But why do you ask?"

Sam sighed, raising and lowering one shoulder in a brief shrug. "I just... I wanted to check Dean was okay. I wanted to make sure he'd gone to find Lisa like I told him to."

Lucifer seemed slightly displeased, but turned his head away so Sam couldn't read his expression. "Your brother will be fine, Sam. You're the one in Hell."

There was little he could do but smile at that. "Yeah, I guess." He paused, briefly trying to calculate how long they'd been down here. It was too much of a complex matter to simply keep track of time. There was Hell-time and earth-time and he wasn't even sure which he experienced, if he did experience any sense of time at all. "Speaking of which," he said. "Where's  _your_  brother? We haven't seen him in ages."

Lucifer was uncharacteristically hesitant in answering. He dipped his head fingers laced together in his lap. Eventually, he sighed and looked back up at Sam. "I did look for him once. Recently, while you were sleeping. He was... was yelling up to Heaven. He seems to be losing the hope that someone will come for him."

"You really don't think they're going to?"

Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "They never came for me," he almost snarled.

"Yeah, but-" Sam cut himself off, deciding against the careless words. No matter how true, he could tell Lucifer would not appreciate circumstances being pointed out to him. Sam fell silent once more.

"I tried to talk to him," Lucifer continued eventually.

"What happened?"

"He got angry with me," Lucifer said. Something of a bitter smile touched his lips. "Or he's  _still_  angry with me, more to the point. He yelled at me that this was all my fault, that everything was. I attempted to calm him down but..."

"What?" Sam pressed.

"He struck out at me," Lucifer admitted. "He still seems happy with the idea of killing me. I took it as my cue to leave."

"That's... rough," Sam muttered, immediately cursing his own poor response. The idea of a brother that should have to kill you still haunted him, and he'd avoided it. Dean had, through some miracle, never given up on him. That that would ever change was Sam's worse fear. Michael, however, had made his feelings clear to Lucifer.

_Kill you or save you_ , Sam remembered Dean telling him their father's words. Perhaps Michael had had the same options, but from what Sam knew, he hadn't really tried the alternative.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, finding the words came out genuinely.

Lucifer gave a short nod, not quite meeting his gaze. "Thank you, Sam."

"What about Adam? Did you see him?"

"Michael's still wearing him," Lucifer confirmed. "I think he may be wary of moving into his true form down here."

"Why?"

"The cage is designed to hold an archangel in it's true form, Sam. It'll attack anything, but especially the thing it was made for."

"But..." Sam eyed the form Lucifer was currently sporting. It was so easy to forget it was an illusion. He could see the fibers on his shirt, not a thing out of place from the real figure that had first approached Sam in his dreams. A blond, sturdy figure of over six foot, strong in a different way to Sam himself. Nick's form appeared the kind that would win easily in a rough bar fight, while Sam was more of the lean, athletic type. Still, he couldn't say the form was not handsome. "I mean, you're in your true form now, right?"

"Yes," Lucifer responded. "But I have... a shield, I suppose you could call it. Like I told you about using the happy memories. I have something to keep Hell from pulling me in."

Sam opened his mouth to question, but before he could even think any words, he knew the answer. He closed his mouth. Lucifer didn't need to say that it was him.

"Can I see?"

Sam's eyes widened as he heard the words spill from his own lips. He hadn't meant to say that. He couldn't recall making any conscious decision to say such a thing, yet it had happened. Definitely not another one of Hell's tricks, judging from the strangely surprised look on Lucifer's face.

"You would... see my true form?"

Sam found himself nodding. "I... kind of saw it before," Sam said cautiously, wondering if he was being too bold with these words. "Or felt it. It was like I could see it, but in my mind. When... you know, we were..."

"One," Lucifer supplied calmly.

"Yeah..." Sam shifted uncomfortably. "But it can't hurt me down here, right? I just... I want to see you." He felt a flush creeping over his skin, but resolutely kept his expression calm, determined not to let the embarrassment get to him.

Surprisingly, Lucifer didn't point this out, or even look amused. Instead, he simply stood. "We will have to go back to Hell in it's raw form," he said. "This illusion will not hold me."

Cautiously, Sam nodded, too wrapped up in a sense of anticipation to really care.

Taking a moment to study Sam, as if to check he were really sure, Lucifer nodded, waving one hand and making the room around them disappear, like smoke drifting off into the air.

Once again, they were stood in the endless cavern, the soulless area of rocky walls and a sense of creeping fear. Sam disliked it immensely. The physical surrounding were not that bad, but he kept swearing he could see something out of the corner of his eyes, or that someone was sneaking up behind him. This place was a landscape from a nightmare.

"Tell me if it overwhelms you," Lucifer said. "And I will revert back to this form."

"Okay." Sam paused. "Er, thank you, by the way. For... you know, letting me see."

Lucifer's response was instant and heartfelt. "You are a part of me, Sam. I was hoping it was clear to you by now that I will never deny you anything."

"Right. Erm, will this be like... massive? Am I gonna be like an insect next to you?"

"That isn't your body, Sam. And I've told you, space is a non-concept here. You can be whatever size you want to. It might take you a few minutes to adjust, but you can see me in an acceptable scale if you try."

"Okay."

As if that were some kind of ancient password, it suddenly happened. The only warning Sam saw with a suddenly yellowish glow in Lucifer's eyes, that seemed to burst forward and consume him. He swore the sun had just exploded right in front of him. He had gone blind. Eyes or not, the light had blinded him, he swore it had. It was all he could see. He was lost in a world of vast, glowing light. But it wasn't a world, not quite. It was a figure. A figure that shone so brightly, Sam felt he had never actually seen true light until this moment. If he really tried, he could see the ends of it. It had wings. Such beautiful wings of blond feathers, glowing, too, more detailed than anything he could ever imagine. He could see each little bristle on them. There was a head. Yes, he could see it now. It was like looking at one of those illusions puzzles with several images in one where each gradually became visible the more you studied it. There were eyes looking down at him. Arms, so very long, but they were definitely arms, stretched out toward him. It had hair! Hair like his, softly curled at the ends. It looked blond, but maybe that was just the light. He couldn't see if it wore clothes. Clothes seemed something from another plane, another world. Clothes were not for this being. It was just a figure. A figure like a silhouette, but massed with detail. Detail there was no words in human language to describe. It contained a universe. It was made of the stars. It was cold, so very cold, like for all its density it was empty, devoid of something. But Sam didn't care. It was still beautiful.

"Sam," it spoke to him. There was no 's' or 'a' or 'm', no sounds he had ever heard before, but somehow he understood. He knew it was his name. This creature was speaking for him.

He was crying. He felt like he was suffocating, choking on his wonder. He felt faint. He could remember this. Remember this from when it was inside him, completing him, wrapped around his soul in an embrace.

He'd lost himself again, drifting in the air without his own shape. But what did it matter? The physical world he was used to seemed a horrid thing suddenly. All the things he'd ever seen he had thought beautiful or attractive were now dull. He couldn't bear the dissatisfaction of anything that was not this perfect being before him.

He moved forward, reaching out for it. He wanted to touch it. More than that, he wanted to become lost in it, to become part of it. " _Lucifer_ , I..."

_You're not worthy_ , some vile little voice hissed in his mind.  _How could you be a part of this? It's some mistake. Devil or not, he is so much greater than you. Even with evil, you are unworthy. The devil doesn't deserve you._  He could see himself stood in front of him, before the great, beautiful being. A smirking, mocking version of himself that was laughing at him.  _You're too weak. He's sharp, strong. You're nothing compared to him, like you're nothing to everyone else._

The words were like a knife stabbing into him, over and over. The phantom Sam disappeared with a last cunning smirk, and Sam felt himself blacking out.

_Not worthy. How could such a thing ever love you?_

He was falling. It was dark. The voice, his own personal hell voice echoed in his head. Chains lashed out at him. He had seen Heaven and now Hell was dragging him down, where he belonged in misery.  _Could never love you._  He was falling into an abyss, away from everything he loved. He was falling.

But it was okay. Something had caught him.


	8. Rebound

"Sam... Sammy..."

Someone was calling him. Vaguely American voice. Deep. Nick's voice. He sounded like Nick again.

"Sam... Remember yourself. Make yourself into your form again."

His form. Right. In Hell, no body. Right. Sam Winchester. Body. Do it. And he did. He could feel the body. He was back to himself. He could do this. Take it steady.

"It's okay, Sam. Open you eyes."

The dull light of his room at Bobby's. The bulb hanging from the ceiling. So dull. There was something sat on the bed beside him.

"I'm here, Sam."

Turning his head (or illusion of a head) was a great effort, it seemed, but sure enough, Lucifer was indeed sat beside him, watching over him like a true guardian angel.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Lucifer said. "I believe seeing my true form may have shocked your mind into openness, leaving you vulnerable to Hell. It was not something I had anticipated."

It's okay, he tried to say. The words wouldn't come. He felt tears in his eyes. His mouth opened and all that came out was a choked sob. He turned his head away, embarrassed, too drained to even roll over. The tears ran down his face, trailing onto the pillow.

"Sam?" Lucifer voice was soft, even worried. He reached out one hand, gently laying it on Sam's arm. "Sammy?"

"I'm sorry," he choked out, shoulders shaking. "I'm really sorry."

"What for, Sam?"

It took a few moments for him to be able to speak comprehensively, voice thick with tears. "You keep telling me all these things, all this stuff you did for me, about how you waited for me. You must have been so disappointed to find-" he gestured weakly to himself, arms flopping back down on the bed- "...this." Swallowing back another sob, he continued. "We're made for each other, right? So it had to be me. I bet you wished you could have swapped. Someone else. Someone better. But you're stuck with me. And I do understand, I do. I understand all the things you say, about the connection between us." Shakily, he pushed himself upright, damp eyes locking onto Lucifer's gaze. "Hell knows it. It knows I understand you, and it knows that you make me feel better than anyone else ever has. But it knows, too, that I'm not worthy of you. I'm a disappointed. You wanted this strong boy-king vessel. And instead, you're stuck with me." The words were coming out in a rush now, so fast and breathy with tears, a normal human may not have understood them. He was sobbing, crying stupidly, like a baby. Pathetic. He ducked his head and squeezed his eyes shut, too embarrassed to even look at the otherworldly being before him.

His eyes opened as he sensed movement near him, watching the hand move into his downcast line of vision. He felt its gentle touch on his chin, lifting his face, forcing him to look into brilliant blue eyes.

" _Sam_." The voice made his name sound like a prayer, something reverent and beautiful. Something worthy. "You have never disappointed me, Sam. Not ever. I would never lie to you. I have told you honestly how highly I think of you again and again."

"No," Sam whispered. "I'm your vessel. You need me. You might appreciate what I can do for you. You don't like me. I'm a mess. I'm-"

"No, Sam," Lucifer cut in. His hand moved gently round to cup the side of his face. "Sam, you are everything I ever dreamt of you being. We were made for each other, two perfect combinations, in everything. Everything you are is beautiful to me, even your faults. These are your own fears talking. Your own Hell. You do not think much of yourself, Sam, and Hell knows it. But, to me, you are perfect."

The tears were blurring his vision so much he could barely see. "I keep hearing things," he said. "I hear you say what I want to hear, or do what I wish you would do, but it's not real. It's teasing me. It's laughing at me."

"You have to fight it, Sam. Focus on what's real. Sam,  _listen_." Lucifer took him by the shoulders, shaking him gently to get him to focus. "You're real. I'm very real. Everything between is what we call set dressing."

Sam stared at him, breathing heavy, tears still falling, but he was listening.

"You can't trust anything else, Sam. But trust me. Hell lies. Even on earth, there's so many lies. But not from me, Sam. You can trust me."

Slowly, the tears were drying, his breathing calming. Shakily, he took a deep breath in. "You promise that?"

"Yes."

"Really? Tell me honestly what you think of me. Put it bluntly."

"I didn't think it needed to be said."

"Say it anyway."

"If you wish. I love you, Sam."

He knew he'd heard it this time. He knew it was real. The relief was so overwhelming, so consuming, he almost collapsed, falling forwards into Lucifer's arms. But the archangel- his angel- held him tight, letting him cling to him and cry into his shoulder.

No more holding back. No more kidding himself. No more suppressing the feelings he knew would label him a freak for good. No more pretending to be someone else in this invasive place that would always know the truth.

After what felt like hours (and who knew? Maybe it had been down here), he pushed himself up, eyes still damp, but finally somewhat composed. He stared into blue eyes, into the depths of angelic energy hidden behind them, into everything Lucifer was. "I love you. I really, really do."

Lucifer said nothing, but kissed him. And Sam knew, that perhaps being here forever was the only option, because there could be no Heaven for him without Lucifer.

 

* * *

 

 

 

It seemed a silly, fanciful request, but Lucifer had obeyed instantly when Sam had asked him to lie in the bed with him. Sam dressed in a plain t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, and Lucifer similarly in a pair of Nick's pajamas he could recall, they lay curled around each other. Sam was clinging on so tight it might have hurt another human being. He seemed afraid to let go, but Lucifer never once complained.

"Lucifer," Sam spoke up, shattering the long-standing silence.

"Hm?"

"I forgot to tell you before."

"Tell me what?"

"About your true form, what you really look like."

"What about it? I apologise again for it overwhelming you."

"It's okay. I want it to overwhelm me again. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Lucifer became suddenly still under him, almost statue-like. It was like he'd stopped breathing, if he ever had been. The lack of movement was so eerie Sam leant up on his arms to check Lucifer was still alive.

But the archangel was staring right back at him, lips just slightly parted, something somewhat sorrowful, but heartfelt, in his expression. "Sam..." The word was barely audible, a whisper, and trailed off as if he wasn't sure what else to say.

Slowly, Lucifer lifted one arm, cupping his hand around the back of Sam's neck.

"No one's said anything like that to me since I fell. You felt the cold. Do you know what that is? It's an absence, like in space. Cold is emptiness."

Sam shook his head. "I like the cold."

Lucifer smiled weakly, but continued. "It's an absence of my Father's love, Sam. The shell of an angel, stripped of the warmth of Heaven. They locked me out, Sam."

Sam twitched his shoulders in a vague shrug. "I don't know about the other angels, but I know what I saw of you. And if what I saw wasn't an angel, I don't know what is."

Lucifer pulled him in, crashing their lips together as if he couldn't bear for them to be apart a moment longer. He rolled Sam under him on the bed, tongue pressing between the hunter's lips, into a mouth that opened wantonly for him. He plunged deeper, slowly, drawing a breathless, almost desperate moan from the figure beneath him.

Sam could feel a flush of heating rising all over his body. But there was no body, was there? He felt aroused, but what the hell was he supposed to do with it? It didn't seem right somehow, with the two of them in these phantom forms.

Seeming to sense his concerns, Lucifer drew back to stare down at him. "What is it, Sam?"

The hunter sighed. "I feel like we're not close enough. Neither of us is real right now."

Lucifer frowned softly, closing his eyes as he leant down to rest his forehead against Sam's, strong arms supporting his weight tirelessly. "Sam," he breathed. "If it were up to me, we would still be one entity. I would remain inside you, wrapped around your very soul if I could."

"I want you to," Sam replied. "God, I wish... I..." He knew, but he couldn't say it. He knew in the way he had known from the first moment Lucifer came to him and told him he was his vessel, that that was where he belonged. Together. As one.

Appearing to feel his unease, Lucifer kissed him once more, making Sam relax despite everything.

"I just want to be with you."

"I know."

"Can you show me again?"

"Show you what?"

"The real you. I want to learn to get used to it. I want you to touch me in that form."

"Sam..."

"I mean it." He reached up, placing his hands on either side of Lucifer's face. "If you promise to never lie to me, that means letting me know everything, letting me see everything. I want to know you like I know myself."

"I am you, Sam. Do you remember when we first met I told you that maybe I knew you better than you knew yourself. That's because we're the same, Sam. But I've had longer to figure it all out. But if that is what you want, I can teach you all I know."

Sam smiled, leaning up and kissing him again. "Good," he said. "We might as well. We have got forever down here."

Lucifer returned the smile, the kind of bitter amusement that could only be shared in the worst possible situations, whether it was that or breaking down completely. "You should rest, Sam," he said gently.

Sam conceded a nod. "Stay with me?"

Lucifer rolled off of him, pulling the hunter flush into his arms as if he were truly trying to absorb Sam into him. Sighing contently, he kissed Sam's forehead. "Of course, Sammy. You know there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

 

* * *

 

 

 

They were sat opposite one another on the bed, as they had been in those early days where they'd played card games to pass the time. Legs crossed, Sam was embarrassed to admit he had shuffled closer enough to keep Lucifer within touching distance, aware he was distinctly and pathetically attached, but too exhausted with everything to care anymore.

"You need to get used to the brightness first," Lucifer was explaining. "Human eyes are only used to the very dull. You may be able to look at something as bright as a true-form angel, but it may render your vision weak after."

"Like when you look at a lightbulb and can see the light after, even when you look away?"

Lucifer nodded, looking mildly pleased, like a teacher praising a student. "Yes. But you can get used to it, get rid of those after effects. Not just the light, the whole of it. Grace is overwhelming in many ways, but you can become accustomed to it."

"It's not like it hurts me right now, though," Sam felt the need to point out. "I mean... the first time I saw you- well, kind of saw you- when you rose out of the cage, I was stunned and everything, but..." He sighed, seeming shy to make such a confession. "It was so beautiful. I'd never seen light like that, so pure. So...  _powerful_."

Lucifer seemed genuinely humbled, a small smile on his face. "That's touching of you to say so, Sam. But I know my true form doesn't hurt you. That's because you're my vessel, made for me, as I was made for you. But that doesn't stop it from being overwhelming to you. No matter how enjoyable, or pleasant, something is, having so much of it at once can cause a shock to the system."

Sam nodded. "I see." He looked up and met Lucifer's gaze. "Okay. Teach me. I want to know everything."

"We'll start with... let's call it basic exposure." He held his hands out in front of him, slightly turned inward, as if holding an invisible bowl. "Watch carefully. Familiarize yourself." A slow glow began to ignite on the surface of his hands. It grew steadily brighter, until a shifting orb of white light danced, suspended, in Lucifer's hold.

"What... What is it?" Sam asked, wide-eyed. "Is that like a part of you?"

"Yes," Lucifer said. "Angel's form are shiftable. We have a solid physical appearance, obviously, but they're like liquid, they can bend and reshape, sometimes just drift like smoke. This is simply a manifestation of celestial energy."

"It's amazing," Sam said earnestly. "You know, I've seen light everywhere; lightbulbs, and candles, even just the sun. But this is different, you know. It's... purer."

"There's many things contaminating the light you're used to. Fire is infested by whatever it is burning, which gets burnt up into it. And the sun, you see through the clouds and atmosphere. This is simply just light in it's true form."

"Can I touch it?" Sam asked breathlessly.

Lucifer made a small, slow gesture, as if throwing it toward Sam in slow motion. It drifted up and spread out and clawed through the air towards him with tendrils, blowing through his hair and wrapping around him in a strange embrace, and Sam felt a dulled, familiar spark somewhere within him.

"I remember it," he whispered, staring into the blinding glow wrapped around his head. "I remember it inside of me." Despite his best efforts, he winced at the brightness, and Lucifer instantly withdrew it. Sam sighed, watching it evaporate into the air. "Why didn't it hurt me - or overwhelm me or whatever- then?" he asked. "I mean, it was  _inside_  me."

"Because that's where it's meant to be," Lucifer replied simply. "Your outer form is the same as any human, only used to the basic physical forms of your own dimensions. You were made to contain me, Sam. There is a space under your skin, around every internal part of you, in some other dimensional way that it would take me eons to explain to you, and that space fits me perfectly."

"Because I was made for you," Sam said quietly.

"As I was made for you," Lucifer replied. "You're not a tool, Sam. You're not some suit tailored to fit me. You're a part of me, and I am only whole inside you."

Sam didn't remember making the conscious decision to move, but he found himself crawling over to insert himself into Lucifer's arms, smiling tiredly as he felt the archangel pull him closer to so he was pressed against Lucifer's chest. He shuffled round so he had his back to him, with Lucifer's chin on his shoulder. "Show me some more."

 

* * *

 

 

 

It felt like he'd spent the past few hours (or however long- Hell time and all that), staring into the heart of a star, the explosion of a galaxy, the soul of the universe itself.

He leant heavily back against Lucifer's chest, sure he would fall were the archangel not there to hold him up. Somehow, that thought wasn't disconcerting in the slightest. Lucifer would never let him fall.

He didn't turn round to look at him, because he knew what was behind him was not human, no longer even human-shaped. Lucifer had told him not to look, to get used to the feel of it first, feeling this great things of weightless depth wrap around him and hold him. In front, he watched it swim, forming shapes before his eyes. At one point, he'd felt something drape around both his sides, and had glanced over to see wings there.

"Don't look at it all," Lucifer had whispered in his ear, voice reverberating with something distinctly non-human. "Learn it bit by bit."

He'd done what Lucifer said, piecing together this being in steps. The light no longer blinded him. Before looking at this angelic form had been like seeing the structure of the universe ripped apart into molecules, overwhelming and so beyond his understanding. But now, every time he looked, it was slowly beginning to make more sense to him.

"Okay, Sammy?" Lucifer asked him, as he had every so often, clearly intent on caring for his vessel.

Sam nodded. "It's still... amazing, but I'm getting used to it. I suppose it's like learning to use a gun or something, each time is easier, you know. You get used to the noise, and recoil, and the general excitement of it."

"That's an interesting analogy, Sam." A wing curled loosely around him in a strange sort of embrace.

Sam smiled and nestled into the touch. "Am I doing okay, do you think?"

"You're doing wonderful, Sam. Soon we-"

There was a sensation not unlike an explosion going off behind him, except the sudden eruption of noise was far too high-pitched. It wailed suddenly, before dying down. Or perhaps he'd lost consciousness briefly. He'd definitely been thrown forward by the commotion, blinking in disorientation down at the rocky ground. Pure Hell, no illusional room to keep them safe. He was panicking, far too unstable to protect himself, but that didn't matter right now. He snapped his head back and forth, searching the area, flinching as he swore he saw things lurking in the shadows, but it was all just tricks. Evil, unreliable place. But Hell hadn't done this, hadn't torn Lucifer away from him. Something else had.

He covered his eyes instinctively, whirling round and finding what must have been a similar experience of staring directly into the sun from close range. The high, whining noise suddenly invaded his senses, screaming, angry.

"This is all your fault! You monster, you did all this!"

The words were somehow forming into something comprehensible in his mind, though he was sure they weren't english. He didn't know if his senses had sharpened somehow from his practiced exposure to Lucifer's true form, but he could hardly dwell on it now.

"I hate you. You ruined everything. If you had only listened to me. Why did you have to do this?"

Blinking to try and make sense of the sight before him, things slowly swam into some kind of comprehensible focus. He recognised Lucifer, bright and beautiful with ginormous wings played on the floor, pinned to the floor by the figure standing over him which stood on his neck.

"Sam. Sam, don't look at it. Come away."

He shook off the hands pulling at his arm. "No. Lucifer.  _Lucifer!_ "

He had to stop them fighting, he had to. But he couldn't get close. Lucifer struggled up under the grip, throwing himself at the other being. The energy wave pushed Sam off of his feet, back against the figure behind him who was still pulling at him to come away.

"Sam, please, we have to go!"

"No, Adam, I can't leave him! Michael, get off of him. Lucifer!"

Another shockwave exploded. Sam screamed, feeling himself falling. Downwards, backwards, he didn't know. He groped for Adam, just managing to catch his arm so they were not separated, feeling the air lash around them as they were thrown far away from the two archangels.


	9. Lunge

He opened his eyes and saw Michael stab Lucifer in the chest.

He screamed.

And then he blinked, and it was gone. He was staring up into endless darkness, his back against the hard rocky floor and a sob welling up in his throat.

"Sam?" Adam was leaning over him, pale and shaking. "Sam, are you okay? Oh god, this place is crazy."

"I'm..." He wanted to say okay, but he wasn't. He'd been separated from Lucifer, of course he wasn't okay.

Slowly, he pushed himself up, looking around but finding nothing but darkness and endless rocky walls. No angels in sight.

"Where are they?" he snapped, whipping his head round to look over at Adam questioningly. "We have to find them!"

"Sam, no," Adam said. "Sam, they were fighting. It was really rough. We... I don't think we should get in the way. They're vicious. I mean, god, they're archangels..."

"I'm not leaving Lucifer!"

"What?" Adam drew back in alarm as Sam continued to study the area, searching almost frantically. "Sam, we should be trying to escape or something! This place is huge. But the one place we do not want to go is near the two massive fighting archangels."

"No." Sam shook his head, not even glancing over as Adam tentatively stood alongside him. "I have to go find them. What...?" He finally stopped and properly turned to face his half-brother. "What happened? Last I saw Michael he was still in you."

Adam shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah... Man, being a vessel is pretty unpleasant, but at least I couldn't really see this place. I sort of woke up suddenly and there was this huge light hovering over me, just... screaming or whatever."

"Screaming about what?"

Adam gave a small shrug. "I couldn't understand most of it. It just sounded like white noise, but I think he's angry that no one from Heaven's come to save him. Actually, he seemed to have kind of... lost it a bit."

"This is Hell," Sam muttered, only half paying attention. "It does that to you." His mind was racing. How was he supposed to know where Lucifer was? This place was a constantly shifting reality. It wasn't like he could just check everywhere until he came across him. He studied the area with little hope, eyes roaming until they stopped on Adam who was staring back at him with fearful wide eyes. Sam sighed. "Sorry," he muttered. "This is crazy, I know. Are you okay?"

Adam shuffled uncertainly on his feet, hunching his shoulders. "I'm... coping, I guess. This is horrible. I... I thought I saw my mother earlier. I ran up to her and she... she was covered in blood. She was dead, like a zombie. It was like a horror movie."

"I'm sorry," Sam said. "You didn't deserve any of this. You should be with your mom up in Heaven. The angels had no right to drag you back down into all this, especially with it having ended up... here."

Adam made an obvious attempt to look brave, forcing a shaky smile. "Someone's got to come for us, right? I mean, those angels said we were important. They wouldn't just use us and dump us down here forever... Right?"

Sam sighed. "You don't know angels like I do."

Adam was looking more terrified by the moment.

Sam felt suddenly guilty. He was supposed to be a big brother, like Dean. Dean would try not to let him worry. Dean would reassure him and come up with a plan. God, it hurt to think of Dean right now. He hoped desperately his brother was okay. But with no way of knowing, he could at least try to take care of his little half-brother.

"It'll be okay, Adam," he said, forcing some kind of positivity into his voice. "I don't know how, but things will work out. We got to keep moving, figure this place out. Listen, anything you think you see or hear, don't trust it. Just stick by me, okay?"

"...Okay."

They started walking. Sam had no idea what direction they were going in, or if they were even getting anywhere at all, but he couldn't just stand there and do nothing. He had to find Lucifer. The lingering feeling of emptiness he'd felt for the majority of his life was now clawing horribly at him and he knew why. He knew exactly what he was missing, and he was determined to find it again.

"Sam?" Adam asked after a while.

"Yeah?"

"Did... Did you really mean it? That you wanted to find Lucifer?"

"Yeah, I did."

"But... Erm... Isn't it..." Adam finally seemed to find the right words. "He's the  _devil_ , right?"

"Technically."

"Then why do you want to...?"

Sam stopped walking, turning to look down at him. "With Michael, do you... feel anything? You know, like, some kind of... connection?"

Sam knew instantly that Adam didn't know what he was talking about. Nonetheless, he waited patiently under the boy shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "I mean, he made out like I was useful, that I was going to be this big help for this important fight. I guess that made me feel kind of good."

"But you didn't feel anything particularly toward Michael himself?"

"No."

Sam nodded. "I guess that's cause Dean was meant to be his vessel. But..." He thought it over. Beside the one moment of doubt where Dean had believed there to be no choice but the apocalypse, his brother had never wavered. He'd firmly declared every argument of Michael and his various representatives stupid, and Sam had been sure Dean had genuinely felt that way. "I don't think Dean felt a connection either," he said eventually. "It's like something went wrong on Michael's end. Maybe he was just too lazy to properly try to appeal to Dean. I don't know." He glanced down at Adam, choosing his words carefully. "But, you see, me and Lucifer, it's different. There's this... bond. It's like... like he's my other half."

Adam looked wary and confused. "What like a soulmate or something?"

Sam couldn't help but smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it's kind of like that."

He wasn't really sure he'd ever believed in such things as soulmates, but he and Lucifer had been destined to find each other from the start of the universe, of that he was now sure.

Adam still seemed perplexed, but he brushed it off, and they carried on walking. He didn't expect people to understand anyway. Dean held the heartwarming position of loving him no matter what, but still, Dean didn't understand. Lucifer had been the only one to ever look at him like he was not only something that made sense, but something admirable.

Sam sighed and kept walking.

 

* * *

 

"Michael.  _Michael!_ "

He hadn't had a fight this difficult since their last battle. The thing about being one of the most powerful beings in the universe is you were rarely challenged. It had honestly taken him rather off guard when the full raging power of his brother had been thrown at him. Even Gabriel, he'd  _known_  with simple (though reluctant) confidence that to defeat him would be easy. Michael was another matter.

Not that he wanted to defeat him. Lucifer had never wanted to kill his brother. He was angry and furious with him, that Michael never listened, that Michael would never try to understand, but he never wanted to kill him.

He knew Michael didn't  _wholly_  want to kill him either, but neither did he not want it. Michael, in his damned blundering blind obedience, saw killing Lucifer as a task to be accomplished, a challenge, another job. Somewhere in his mind, Lucifer knew he justified it that challenges were supposed to be difficult, that the emotions he felt over killing Lucifer were some obstacle to overcome. Michael survived and prospered on the concept of being better. Michael lived to take the moral high ground. Michael believed that as long as he had the basic standing of doing-the-right-thing behind him, then everything was justified. Even killing his little brother.

"This isn't good, Michael!" He snapped, barely dodging the blow struck toward him. "Will this really purify everything for you? Will my death assure you that you're the good one? Maybe I am bad. But who says killing something bad makes you good?"

There was a brief, almost unnoticeable, hesitance in Michael's next blow, but it came nonetheless. He hissed as he again missed his target, throwing himself after Lucifer in pure rage. "Be quiet! This is all your fault!"

"My fault?!" Lucifer danced out of the way, shoving Michael's back so the elder archangel was sent sprawling to the ground. "Fault is what starts it. I did not start this, Michael! If those humans did not exist none of this would have happened."

Michael turned over, eyes narrowing as Lucifer's hand grasped his neck and pinned him down. "It was Father's will!" He growled. "Who are you to disobey Father? The humans didn't start this. Your rebellion did!"

"I rebelled because of them!" Lucifer snapped back, moving his weight on top of his brother to keep the writing archangel in place. "They ruined everything!"

"NO!  _You_  ruined everything, you freak!"

Lucifer leant in so their faces were almost touching, wings flared behind him. "You think I wanted this?" he asked, voice disturbingly low, yet there was an unnerving icy quality to his tone, so out of place with the singing, airy voice of angels. "I would do anything to go home, back to the way it was before. You, me, our brothers and sisters, and Father. I  _didn't want this_."

"They why?" Michael yelled, clawing at his brother's arms in an attempt to get Lucifer to release him. "Why do all this? You've turned yourself into a monster."

Lucifer flinched at the words as if physically struck, eyes blazing. " _They're_  the monsters," he said. "The humans. Why can't you see it? They're horrible. All they do is kill and destroy. The earth. The beautiful earth. Look at what they've done to it."

"It's Father's design," Michael responded. "Father created them. Father..." He trailed off, mouth closing firmly. "I shouldn't have to explain to you. You're in the wrong here. You're beyond redemption and I must kill you, Lucifer."

" _Why?_  For what purpose? What will that ever accomplish?"

"Paradise," Michael snapped back. "Paradise as it always should have been."

"Are you sure?" Lucifer growled, moving one hand to press against Michael's forehead, forcing his brother to look at him. "What if you kill me down here? Not on earth? I am dead and then what? There's still demons. There's still horrible, vile humans. Did you ever consider the purpose of the battle being on earth? If we are supposed to love these humans so much, why let them get hurt in the crossfire? Didn't your vessel, Dean, didn't he point this out to you? He had a point."

Michael's eyes narrowed, but there was some semblance of doubt attempting to fight its way onto his features. "No," he hissed, though perhaps not with as much authority as he could have. "No. The earth should be paradise rebuilt there. After the slate was wiped clean of your evil."

"Of my evil?" Lucifer snapped. "Or of theirs?"

Michael paused, one hand still digging into Lucifer's arm in a vice-like grip, but immobile. "Then what is your purpose?" he asked eventually. "What's the point of adding to evil with more evil?"

"The evil is in them," Lucifer said. "I merely planned to bring it to the forefront, to let it fester and spread quicker. They are violent creatures, I keep telling you. In the end, they would wipe themselves out in their greedy bloodshed." He smiled almost fondly, as if thinking of something to look forward to. "And then, you would all see that I was right."

"And what next?" Michael questioned. "What would you do then?"

Lucifer fell quiet briefly, grip just firm enough to keep Michael in place, though the other archangel seemed to have temporarily forgotten about fighting back. He seemed to sigh, not quite meeting his brother's eyes as he finally spoke. "Live in peace," he said, voice barely more than a whisper. His rage seemed to quieten slightly, merely hovering in place above Michael, a sturdy, immobile force. "I'm tired, Michael. Tired of fighting, tired of being alone. I know I'll never be welcome back in Heaven, you're right in that I'm probably beyond redemption. I don't know if I'll ever want to die. Maybe. But an eternity in peace, as long as the universe is how it should be, free of that horrid infestation of humans, then I could live with that."

Michael's eyes narrowed, glaring up at his brother suspiciously. "If you're tired of being alone, then the earth being empty is hardly a benefit. Do you plan to keep demons as your friends?"

"I would rid the world of demons and lock them in Hell," Lucifer said offhandedly; it was clear he had thought long and hard about this, a plan organised down to the tiniest detail. "You know I took Metraton's tablets, though I confess I'm not sure where they all are now. But I could lock up Hell. No demons, no humans."

"You'd still be alone," Michael said. "We want nothing to do with you."

Lucifer looked down at him and smiled, shaking his head. It was an eerie gesture, disturbing in its calmness, it's serenity. Lucifer almost looked content, as if whatever was on his mind gave him some kind of salvation. "Not alone. The one part of this whole apocalyptic plan I made sure to fulfill was getting my vessel."

Michael looked blankly surprised. "Sam?"

Lucifer nodded. "Yes, Sam." He spoke the name almost reverently. "My other half, the one being made for me. Sam understands. I could be happy with Sam, even if I can't return to Heaven."

Michael was simply stunned, staring up at his brother in undisguised shock. "That is your grand prize?" he asked incredulously. "All you want is Sam Winchester?"

Lucifer gave a sort of half-hearted shrug. "At first I wanted revenge, to take over Heaven, all sorts of crazy things. But as the years passed, down here alone, it was a lot of time to think. I suppose I realised all I wanted was someone on my side."

"Sam is supposed to be a weapon," Michael said. "A tool. He and Dean are instruments, designed for us, nothing more."

The look Lucifer gave him was almost sympathetic, as if he truly pitied Michael for his point of view. "I don't know what went wrong with you and Dean. Perhaps that Castiel took the place you were supposed to have. Maybe the fault is with you, that you just can't see past the practical side of things. But I love Sam. I love every exact particle that made him what he is. Tools can be replaced, remade. Sam is individual and beautiful. If one particle were different, he would not be Sam, and I would not want him. But as he is, he is in every piece made to fit around me."

Michael shifted in his hold slightly, confused discomfort masked by confused anger. "You don't need to love your vessel."

"But how could I not?" Lucifer smiled whimsically, tears in his eyes. "I can no more stop loving Sam than I can stop loving you, brother. No matter what."

Michael's sword had been on him when he'd fallen into the pit. It had been in his hand when he'd lunged again and again at Lucifer in anger. It was still in his hand now, though in the midst of the conversation, he was hardly aware of it, his grip loose.

"But we're in Hell now," Michael said. "Things cannot be left like this. Heaven must come for me."

"Then where are they?"

"They  _will_ come," Michael insisted desperately. "They have to!"

Lucifer seemed almost sympathetic. "When you cast me down here, I used to tell myself the same thing." A tear trailed slowly down his face, falling and dripping lightly onto Michael's cheek, just as his brother's face fell in crippling realisation.

Lucifer took the sword from his hand. Drawing it back, he plunged it sharply down and into his brother's wing.

Michael cried out, writhing against the pain as Lucifer moved swiftly off of him and back.

"I'm sorry, brother," Lucifer said, pausing only briefly to look back. "But I have to find Sam." Turning from the pained figure of Michael writhing on the ground, he spread his wings and took off in search of his other half.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking about what Lucifer's real plan for the apocalypse was, and though at first I think he would have entertained fantasies about returning to Heaven, I think with all that time to think in the cage, he's too logical to believe he'd just be blindly accepted back. I think end!verse is actually what Lucifer would want now, as his best case scenario, to let the humans destroy each other, for Michael to live and just remain in Heaven, and he can have Sam.
> 
> Anyway, I hope all that made sense and wasn't too out there. Thanks for reading :3


	10. Firm Ground

After a couple of hours (at least that's what it felt like) of watching Adam dragging his feet behind him, Sam's conscience berated him into taking a break and the two of them sat down on a remotely smooth area of rocky ground.

"Go to sleep if you want," Sam said. "I'll stay and keep lookout."

"Sure?" Adam asked, not bothering to disguise his gratitude toward the idea.

Sam nodded. "Just be careful. This place can effect your dreams. Think happy thoughts, eh?"

Adam seemed too exhausted to bother arguing much, curling up on the ground and shuffling to get comfortable as best he could, before closing his eyes.

Sam pursed his lips, suppressing a guilty sigh. He knew he should tell Adam the trick about finding a happy place to stay in. He could conjure one and let the poor boy sleep on a proper bed, but his own mind was racing too much for anything of the sort. Besides, he wasn't sure he could bring Adam into a place with him. He and Lucifer had been able to be together through their connection, and though Adam was technically his half-brother, Sam had to confess to knowing very little about him, certainly not enough to know what would be a true place of happiness for him.

He hadn't realised how much his own mind had been wandering, until he looked up and saw Lucifer standing a few feet away.

Delight spreading across his face, Sam clambered quickly to his feet and ran over. "Lucifer!"

One moment he was running toward him, and then next he wasn't there. Sam stumbled to a stop, looking round in confusion.

"You left me."

The voice came from behind him. He whirled round, almost instantly stumbling back.

Lucifer was stood no more than a foot away. He looked like Nick again. At least he did underneath the blood. His clothes were torn, ripped so they were no more than shreds hanging haphazardly off of his frame. Most of the remaining material was stained red. He was cut up all over. A flap of fabric over his chest, once the pale green t-shirt, shifted to reveal a wound underneath. It was leaking grace, a glowing pale light shining out.

"...Lucifer." Sam's voice was shaking. Eyes wide and trembling, he reached out, laying his hand over the open chest wound, as if trying to staunch it. The light seeped around his fingers. "No. Lucifer..."

"You left me, Sam," Lucifer spoke again. "You let Michael do this to me."

"No.  _No_. I didn't... I didn't mean to..."

"You left me." The words were faint now. With the last syllable, Lucifer fell backwards, head lolling as he hit the ground. His wings were scorched across the rock either side of him.

Sam screamed.

"Sam?"

He was vaguely aware of Adam's voice behind him. He ignored it, throwing him onto the ground beside Lucifer, reaching out for him, to shake him awake, to do something, anything.

The ground was empty.

Blinking through his tears, Sam stared down at the rocky floor, Adam's footsteps approaching from behind, before skidding to a stop beside him.

"Sam? What's wrong? What the hell are you doing?"

Running his hand across the floor, Sam let out a shaky breath. It hadn't been real. Illusions. Hell tricks. Nothing more.

Finally tuning in to Adam's nervousness beside him, Sam looked up at him apologetically. "Sorry," he said. "I was... seeing stuff. It wasn't real."

"It's okay," Adam muttered. He paused. "What did you see?"

Sam debated telling him that he'd been screaming and crying over seeing the devil die. He shook his head. "It was nothing. Just... kind of gross and gory. Doesn't bear thinking about." Trying not to let Adam see that he was still shaking slightly, he got to his feet. "Come on, we should keep moving."

"You still want to find Michael and Lucifer?" Adam asked, sounding distinctly as if he were attempting to mask the hope that Sam may have changed his mind.

Sam nodded. "Well, I want to find Lucifer. I don't care about Michael."

"He's not  _so_  bad," Adam said meekly. "Before we went to fight the big battle- or well, whatever happened- he talked to me a bit. Told me stuff about why it was all happening."

Sam glanced down at him curiously as they walked. "What did he say?"

Adam shrugged mildly. "Just about how Lucifer chose to go against their Father, and how it caused all this fighting. Michael was actually pretty upset about it."

"Lucifer was upset too," Sam said before he could stop himself.

Adam frowned. "But Lucifer caused it all."

"Yes," Sam said tersely. "But he only did all of it because he felt he needed to. It wasn't for no reason." Sam paused, taking a moment to question whether or not he should be defending the devil. But with everything Lucifer had told him, he couldn't help but agree that Lucifer  _did_  have a point. He had understood every argument Lucifer had made to him, and generally agreed with all of them. "Michael should have at least tried to listen to Lucifer's point of view."

"But Lucifer did all that bad stuff."

"No," Sam insisted shaking his head. "It's not as simple as that. He thought he was doing the right thing." His mind flashed back to his own experiences with the demon blood and Dean's protests. "You have to consider why people do things, not just that they're doing them."

Adam seemed about to say something more, when a dry laugh interrupted them, snapping both brothers' heads forward.

"You sound just like Lucifer."

Their gazes were drawn quickly downward, toward Michael who had disguised himself in the form of young John Winchester, presumably to save their eyes. Although he apparently couldn't do anything to hide the large wings splayed from his back, one of which was pinned jaggedly to the ground with an angel blade. They were pure white the wings, at least underneath the shade of dust and dirt from Hell, not the mention the blood seeping into his feathers around the wound.

Adam, still unused to the general gore and ruthlessness Sam was so familiar with in his life, was staring wide-eyed and pale-looking.

"Where's Lucifer?" Sam said.

Michael's eyes narrowed as he shifted in clear discomfort. "Maybe I killed him."

A sickening jolt he would rather not question shot through Sam's system, but logic quickly pushed it aside. "With a sword through your wing? I don't think so. If you'd struck a fatal blow after that, Lucifer would be lying here, too. Where is he?"

Michael scoffed, turning his head away. For a few moments, he remained silent, seeming for the mere sake of aggravation, before he finally spoke up. "He's looking for you."

Again, Sam's emotions swept him away into feelings he wasn't sure he should have, but it would have been simply absurd to try and deny to himself that what he had just felt wasn't elation.

However, it wasn't anything compared to the effect Michael's next words had on him.

"He's in love with you." The eldest archangel shifted on the ground, wincing slightly as he jarred his wing. He gave the wound a glance, frowning, but continued speaking nonetheless. "It's hardly as romantic as it sounds, but he's given up the idea of Heaven in exchange for you. Believe me, Lucifer's obsessive, when he wants something he won't let it go. You have to understand, Sam, that he cares about you too much in some ways. I know my brother. I know in his mind he'll have worlds to give you, things to offer you you can't imagine, but he'll bind you to him forever."

"What are you trying to say Michael?" Sam asked.

Michael sighed. "That perhaps you need to contemplate just how long forever is. You may not be dead, but you're here, and that's as good as. You won't die down here, you have no aging body. The same as if you had stayed as Lucifer's vessel on earth. My brother plans to keep you forever, whether as his vessel, or down here with him." He was leaning up on one elbow now, turned toward his injured wing and looking up at Sam intently. "If you let him in, Sam, in any way, if you decide this is what you want, it's for good. Are you willing to stay by Lucifer forever?"

The words were heavy and Sam couldn't help but contemplate them. He was honestly slightly amazed that Michael was trying to give him advice, but the archangel made a valid point. Even with all his experiences, he knew his human mind couldn't really wrap around the daunting concept of  _forever_ , but he tried nonetheless. Forever. With Lucifer. He thought about his life up until that moment, as that was the longest time period he knew. Twenty-seven years of life, much of which he'd felt out of place for, until what had seemed a blundering error had opened a bloody doorway on the floor of an old convent, from which flooded the brightest literal and metaphorical light of his life. And suddenly, he'd found not only something that loved him (even as others had, Dean, Bobby, Jess), but vitally understood him. And for the first time, Sam had felt like he'd belonged, that someone wanted him, just simply because he was him.

It was a nice feeling.

It was- yes- a feeling he believed he could live forever with.

"Yes," Sam said. "Forever sounds fine by me." Despite everything, he felt a smile creeping into his face. "He waited so long for me, forever is the least I can give him in return. I love him, too."

Michael gave something between a laugh and a sigh, rolling onto his back so he was lying on the ground once more. "I have to say this is a twist of fate I never expected... Nothing's happened as I expected." He seemed to slowly exhale, though Sam was unsure whether angels breathed, eyes slipping shut. "I can't forgive him. What he's done, it's too much."

"Are you still planning to kill him?" Sam asked.

For a few moments, Michael didn't move, before his eyes finally opened once more. "Not if he has you. You are the one human that Lucifer has tried to love, as our Father asked us to. It's an irony I'm not sure Lucifer even realizes. And I think it's maybe as close to any kind of redemption that he's going to get." Slowly, he turned his head to look toward Sam. "I can't forgive Lucifer. I will forever be angry at Lucifer for what he did. But as long as you're with him, as long as you continue to give Lucifer something to feel for other than anger, I'll stay my hand."

It was far from a perfect answer, but Sam knew when to take his chances. He nodded. "I should find him." He paused, glancing down at Adam who had been watching the whole exchange in a slight overwhelmed manner. "Can you take care of Adam?" he asked, turning back to face Michael. "God said you're to serve humans, right? Well this one could do with some protection."

Michael glanced at the younger brother and nodded. "You've served me kindly, Adam. And the company would be appreciated. Until someone comes to return us to Heaven." His voice was weaker at the end, shadowed with doubt. Sam could tell he was starting to comprehend the idea that perhaps no one was coming for them, but he thought best not to push it. Michael would have to accept that fact in his own time.

"What about your wing?" Adam asked. "You're bleeding."

Michael shook his head. "Lucifer didn't strike to kill, only to stop me following him. I gave him a fair few injuries during our fight when I cast him down here. It'll heal. Think you can help me pull the blade out?"

Adam looked hesitant, but nodded bravely, stepping forward.

Sam stopped him briefly, pulling his younger brother into a tight embrace. "Take care," he said. "When I find Lucifer, maybe we'll meet up with you sometime. We're all going to be okay."

"I hope so," Adam mumbled into his chest.

"I'm sorry again you got pulled into all this."

"It's okay." Adam leant back with something close to a smile. "Honestly, from what I've heard about you and Dean's life, this is kind of to be expected as a Winchester."

Sam grinned and nodded, patting his brother's shoulder, casting one last look at Michael, before turning on his heel to leave. "Teach him that trick about projecting a happy place from memory," Sam said. "Keep Adam safe."

Michael nodded, watching closely as Adam wrapped both hands around the angel blade and yanked it out firmly. He grunted in obvious pain, wincing, but otherwise remaining unfazed. He cast a weak smile over at Sam that almost reminded him of Dean. "Good luck."

Sam smiled back in response, took a deep breath, and walked off.

 

* * *

 

 

 

There was no direction, no up or down, or left or right, or forward or back, but as if something were leading him, after an indistinguishable (as it always was in Hell) amount of time, he found him.

Lucifer's back was to him. He looked like Nick. Briefly, Sam worried it was another illusion, but as he turned and caught sight of Sam, his form exploded into something colossal and endlessly beautiful, and when Sam gazed upon it, the overwhelmingness of it passed quickly as something within him recognised it as well as his own reflection. He couldn't have described it if he had tried, but he knew it.  _Lucifer_. Just Lucifer.

He continued to walk forward until they met. He couldn't see his own body, but it didn't matter. He wasn't scared. He didn't feel lost as a floating soul. He knew himself better than perhaps he ever had. He was here, Sam Winchester, with his other half, Lucifer, his angel.

"I don't ever want to leave you again," he whispered.

Lucifer wrapped around him like a galaxy enclosing on one man, a comforting mass of celestial energy embracing him, binding with him, holding him tight.

"I'm always with you, Sam." The voice wasn't made of human sounds, but Sam understood it all the same. It was like hearing his own thoughts. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," Sam whispered. " _Good_." He let his eyes fall shut, though he no longer had eyes. He let the physical world fall away. It was like creating one of the phantom spaces from happy memories, expect this was something he knew better than any real place he'd ever been.

In this metaphysical world, he fell back onto a bed his mind dreamed up, better than the rocky floor. Everything could be perfect with a sheer thought. He'd found Heaven in Hell, as Lucifer pulled off his clothes, kneeling between his legs, touching him with such love and affection, staring down at him as if he were the most perfect thing he'd ever seen.

"Isn't this kind of... human for you?" Sam asked, unable to mask his curiosity.

Lucifer smiled down at him, seeming amused. "Do animals not do this, too? Love in all forms is good, Sam. I want to know you in every way."

He had such a strong hold on himself, on Lucifer, on who he was, on the whole world and everything in it, that he could feel the body he didn't have. He could feel the heat flushed across his face, the goosebumps across his skin, and the building ache in his cock.

Lucifer's hands ran up his thighs, moving to undo his belt. His jeans were quickly removed, joining his shoes and socks on the floor. Lucifer himself was still dressed, and Sam groaned his protest, reaching up to all but rip the over-shirt back and down his arms. He cast it aside. It might have vanished into thin air for all he knew, but he couldn't have cared less about Hell's physics right now.

Lucifer took the hint, hauling the other shirt he wore up and over his head, already kicking off his boots.

Sam ran his hands down Lucifer's chest appreciatively. It looked like Nick for this, of course, but he felt it suited Lucifer, the strong, thick, soft flesh. He felt powerful. Sam dug his nails in, grinning in satisfaction as Lucifer's breath seemed to hitch.

Shuffling quickly out of his jeans, Lucifer pushed Sam back down onto the bed, marveling briefly at the way his hair seemed to flutter around his head as he hit the pillow, quickly moving on top of him to press their lips together. He smiled as Sam moaned into his mouth, letting the length of his body fall to press flush against Sam's, knee to knee, hip to hip, something warm and hard brushing against his stomach through the fabric of Sam's underwear.

"Eager," Lucifer muttered against his lips.

Sam moaned softly, grinning between kisses. "Of course. It's like I've been waiting my whole life for this."

"Not as long as I've waited," Lucifer responded, smashing their lips together so hard Sam was rendered quite literally speechless.

Flustered, hands shaking, Sam parted his lips to allow Lucifer's tongue into his mouth. A fine tremble shot through him as he detected something distinctly unfamiliar, poking around experimentally until he was certain that, surely enough, Lucifer's tongue really  _was_  forked. The resulting sound he made into Lucifer's mouth was so desperate, he felt Lucifer smirk in response. But Sam was beyond caring, bucking his hips up, cursing himself for letting either of them keep their underwear on.

Lucifer seemed to sense his thoughts. Or possibly hear them. Sam wouldn't have been surprised. They were so close to being one entity, it was entirely possible. And Lucifer seemed to know just what he wanted, as he pulled away from Sam's mouth to press gentle kisses all down his body, going from his chin, to his neck, to his heaving chest, to the chiseled muscles of his stomach, his hip bones, to- finally- the waistband of his underwear. Lucifer pulled at it playfully with his teeth, grinning as Sam tried to press closer, before putting the hunter out of his misery and pulled his briefs straight off.

Sam groaned, head thrown back, as his erection was freed, feeling the blood pump within it, seeming to rush south from every other part of his body. He moved a hand round to touch himself, but Lucifer slapped it away. Sam whined.

"Patience, Sammy." Lucifer drew back briefly, ignoring Sam's protests. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of the boxers (presumably Nick's) he was wearing, pushing them down almost painfully slowly. The outline of his cock had been clear enough through the fabric, but something about seeing it made Sam writhe desperately on the bed, parting his legs before he'd even bothered considering the roles of how they would do this.

Lucifer seemed pleased by his enthusiasm, adjusting his position slightly, he curled his fingers lightly around himself, stroking the shaft from base to tip. The flushed head of his cock was already damp, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin. Sam was amazed to see the noticeable blush to his cheeks, watching in fascination the way Lucifer's chest heaved as he touched himself, stomach sucking in slightly, hands even slightly trembling. He was biting his bottom lip to keep from making a sound, but Sam was determined to rectify that.

Grabbing hold of Lucifer's hips, he pulled the archangel toward him, forcing Lucifer to crawl closer as Sam shuffled down the bed until Lucifer was basically straddling his shoulders. Drawing in a shaky breath to steady his nerves, Sam angled his head to fit his mouth around Lucifer's cock, practically swallowing him down before drawing back with an agonising slowness, lips tight around the shaft.

And to his satisfaction, Lucifer's breath hitched and gasped, before, finally, a choked moan escaped from between his lips.

Sam smirked as best he could with his mouth full, dipping his head down again, letting the weight of it rest against his tongue. His own cock was burning, throbbing in need of release, but he would hold out. He focused on Lucifer, using his hand to stroke where his mouth couldn't reach, caressing the base of his shaft and balls, stroking his hands over them, squeezing gently, moving up to grip the base as he set up a rhythm. Mouth wet and hot, he continued his assault, taking satisfaction from every gasp and keening noise Lucifer made above him, until the archangel grabbed hold of his hair and firmly but gently pulled him back.

Sam let Lucifer's cock slip from his mouth with a wet sound, head falling back as he shuffled down the bed, feet planted on the mattress, legs parted as Lucifer took hold of his thighs and moved Sam to where he wanted him.

There was a bottle of lube on the bedside table, as Sam had wished it there. Lucifer wasted no time in coating his fingers, lathering them generously, before trailing one cool fingertip around Sam's entrance. He waited until he drew a whimper from Sam, before finally pushing inside.

Sam moaned at the unfamiliar invasion, shifted his hips, clenching experimentally as Lucifer eased another finger inside of him. He stared, open-mouthed, up at the nonexistent ceiling as Lucifer caressed him, until a gentle touch on his thigh drew his attention.

He ducked his head slightly to meet Lucifer's gaze where the archangel was leaning over him. Sam could see his other arm shifting, presumably coating himself in the lubricant. He looked ethereally gorgeous, blondish hair mused, face flushed, blue eyes bright and staring at him questioningly.

"What?" Sam breathed.

"I want to know you're sure," Lucifer said. "That you want this. Your consent is important to me, Sam."

Sam smiled shakily, memories of Lucifer's courtship for him as a vessel coming to mind. "Yes," he said, almost laughing at the connotations of the word. "Yes, I want this."

Lucifer smiled back, scissoring his fingers inside Sam's entrance, adjusting his position and waiting for Sam to raise his hips slightly, before gentle guiding his erection inside of him.

Sam gasped and writhed at the sensation, shakily puffing out air in an attempt to control himself, before throwing his head back, clenching his eyes shut. Briefly, he wasn't sure he could take it, the feeling of Lucifer's thick cock pushing inside of him, but forcing himself to breathe, he realised it was getting easier, his body becoming used to the sensation, muscles clenching and fitting around him until it started to feel good.

Lucifer was gripping the sheets either side of his head, pushing deeper, adjusting his position experimentally until he found something he and Sam were both comfortable with and he began to pull back and in again, over and over, driving deep until he touched something within Sam that made the hunter cry out in ecstasy.

Sam was bucking his hips up to get Lucifer deeper inside of him, groaning and whining out half-formed words and cries of Lucifer's name, voice deep, husky, hitting timbers he'd never heard from himself before. His hands scrambled up Lucifer's arms, coiling round to grip his back, nails digging in and drawing lines down the soft flesh. "Oh... Oh  _God_..."

"This has nothing to do with my Father, Sam," Lucifer replied breathlessly, thrusting his hips forward, lips parting in a gasp, shoulders tensing under Sam's hands. " _Sam..._ "

The hunter whined in response, cock throbbing against his stomach, pre-cum dampening his abdomen. He moved a hand down to touch it again, but once more, Lucifer slapped him away, finishing the motion instead and grabbing Sam's length.

" _Ugh... Lucifer..."_  Sam curled tighter towards him in a position he hadn't previously known possible, letting his forehead rest on Lucifer's shoulder, hair sticking to his skin, hips bucking madly as Lucifer's hand worked him up and down in time with his thrusts. "Lucifer!"

Sam had had a fair few sexual partners in his life, but he was sure none had ever felt this good. Everything he'd ever felt up until this moment felt dulled and pointless. How had he ever even contemplated saying no to all of this? How had he even ever survived without this?

Lucifer shuddered, thrust deeper, hand tightening on Sam's cock. The heat building in his stomach seemed to be reaching his peak, when some last semblance of control broke with him in a way he hadn't expected, as with a rushing swoop of wind, his wings unfurled from his back, arching up and spreading themselves.

Sam seemed to draw some strange pleasure for this, wide and bleary eyed as he reached one hand toward them like a moth drawn to a flame. His fingers touched feathers and curled around them, making Lucifer stutter out a moan so loud and out of control Sam was sure it must have been his true voice for a moment.

Sam's other hand rose up to grip his other wing, using them as leverage to hold himself to Lucifer as they moved together, the archangel thrusting deep with him as Sam rocked his hips almost madly. He gave Sam's cock another, long, sensuous stroke, and with a cry of pure ecstasy, Sam's hips jutted forward and he spilt over Lucifer's fingers, only moment before the archangel came himself.

Lucifer cried out as the heat flushed over his body, waves of pleasure trembling over his skin as his seed filled Sam until it was spilling out of him.

They rode out the final tremors of orgasm together, foreheads almost touching as Sam forced his heavy eyes open and met Lucifer's gaze with a shaky smile.

Lucifer grinned back, groaned, and let himself collapse on top of the Winchester, ignoring the sticky substance between them, their skin flushed and damp and burning with the contact.

Sam was breathing heavily, hands still gripping Lucifer's back as if afraid he'd disappear. He sighed deeply, turning and burying his face in Lucifer's neck, as the two large wings fell to drape over either side of the bed.

"I'm never leaving you," Sam promised in a panting whisper, eyes half-lidded. "I love you, Lucifer. Even if it's Hell, I'll stay with you forever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I have to say about that last scene is "I tried"...
> 
> Also, why yes, that is a very cliche and ominous ending sentence....


	11. Crashing Down

After the first time, Sam woke to find himself wrapped in something bright and cuddled in an embrace of wings. Unbothered by his own lack of physical form, he pushed closer to it, finding they could intertwine in the most intimate embrace he had ever experienced. Smiling in a way so pure it didn't even require a mouth, Sam had slept there with more contention that he was sure he'd ever felt on earth.

When they finally decided to move, Lucifer wrapped around him, coiling them together into as close to one being as they could get. Guiding Sam with him, they walked on together.

They visited dreamscapes of other places together. Lucifer showed him other worlds he could never have imagined, taking him all across the universe. They got up close to stars, walked pure crystal hallways, delved into the depths of oceans, and came up again. It was on a lush bed of grass beside a flowing river (the lost city of Atlantis, Lucifer had claimed, much to Sam's amazement), that they decided to next stop and rest for a while.

"You okay, Sammy?"

Lying at a right angle to the archangel so his head was resting on Lucifer's (technically Nick's) stomach, Sam nodded. "I'm... perfect."

"In Hell?" Lucifer queried, sounding somewhat amused.

Sam grinned despite himself. "Sounds crazy, I know." He sighed. "People always thought I was kind of crazy. Maybe I'm just embracing it."

Lucifer hummed thoughtfully, as if he knew precisely what Sam meant. He stroked the hunter's hair absentmindedly, smiling as Sam seemed to settle against him.

"It's like... it's only Hell if we let it be," Sam spoke up again, voice heavy with thought. "And maybe Heaven's only good if you hold onto the idea that it is. Everything... it's all kind of dependent on choice, right?"

"You've always had choice, Sam," Lucifer said. "But you chose right every time."

"I'm not sure about right," Sam muttered, gaze fixed on the pale sky. "Not morally, at least. But my choices lead me to you, and for that, I'm glad, you know."

Lucifer's hand stilled in his hair, resting firmly on top of his head. "Forget morals, Sam. They're a matter of opinion anyway. Ball of semantics, I've told you this before."

"I know," Sam sighed, turning over and rolling onto his front so his face was level with Lucifer's. "I love you, Lucifer."

Cupping a hand round the back of his neck, the archangel pulled him down into a deep kiss, only releasing Sam when he was flustered and breathless. "I love you, too, Sam Winchester."

They saw Michael and Adam once. Michael's wing appeared all but healed, and he and Adam were sat together against the rocky wall, apparently engrossed in a story Michael was telling. Adam looking completely enraptured, and Sam smiled to see his brother happy. At least, as happy as one could be in Hell. Though- glancing at Lucifer- he realised that was perhaps more possible than it had first seemed.

Michel had glanced up and nodded at them, but said no more. Adam had waved, but seeing as things were still shaky between the two archangels, Sam and Lucifer had moved on.

Sometimes, they spent the days almost like humans. Making love in phantom hotel rooms like humans, certainly. Sam didn't care to admit the amount of times he'd had his mouth around Lucifer's cock and vice versa. Lucifer didn't seem to mind Nick's form, especially with the loving way Sam ran his hands over the soft flesh, biting kissing into his neck, making marks that Lucifer often didn't let fade for days.

Other times, Sam let his body fade, soul shining bright in contention as Lucifer's true form wound around him. There were moments when he almost wasn't sure where he ended and Lucifer began.

He still slept occasionally, Lucifer standing over him like the true guardian angel, ready to wake him should Hell's tricks creep up on him while in a vulnerable state.

It was one of these times, in the midst of sleep, that he was sure he could hear voices. Voices talking, just slightly too far out of range for him to make out the words. One of them sounded like Dean.

Gasping inaudibly, Sam's eyes flew open. He was staring at the wall of the hotel room he'd first met Lucifer in, a mirage they often returned to as it was somewhere personal to them both, a sort of home comfort, if you will.

The voices had gone. Sam craned his neck round, turning over and finding Lucifer stood across the room. Clearly sensing his movement, Lucifer looked over to him. "Okay, Sammy?"

_They were just stupid voices,_  he told himself.  _You used to hear stuff all the time down here. Get a grip._  Sam sat up, pushing his hair out of his face and forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Lucifer wandered over to sit on the edge of the bed, wrapping his hand around the back of Sam's neck and pulling him forward to press their lips together.

Sam smiled into the kiss, eyes falling shut and all worries forgotten as Lucifer's tongue eased its way into his mouth.

He tipped backwards, head hitting the pillow, a soft laugh escaping him as Lucifer instantly crawled on top of him and straddled his waist. Beaming, Sam reached up and placed his hands either side of Lucifer's face, staring up into blue eyes admiringly. "I love you."

"I'm going to put up a barrier inside your mind."

Sam froze, blinking forcefully. He'd seen Lucifer's lips move, but the words hadn't matched. Shaking his head slightly to clear the illusion, he could see Lucifer's face staring down at him in concern.

"Sam?"

Sam sat up, forcing Lucifer to shuffle off of him. He looked around. They weren't in the hotel room anymore. The sky was darkening.

Lucifer had now realised it, too. He reached out, pulling Sam close to him as they both clambered to their feet.

Sam gripped the fabric of his shirt, pressing against him, head snapping from side to side fearfully. What was going on? He'd been  _happy_ , he couldn't be causing this. Besides, it felt different from Hell's illusions. The air was still, ghostly silent. Nothing moved, no chains shooting out, or bloodied figures. This was not like Hell. Hell was alive with vigorous torture and unwanted sights. Right now, everything just seemed... dead.

Something was talking to him, telling him not to scratch, not to scratch the wall.

"Lucifer," the word spilled from his lips in fear. He turned to look at the archangel who appeared increasingly on edge, holding Sam to him as if he expected he was about to be ripped from his grasp.

"Sam," Lucifer replied, voice uncharacteristically shaken. It seemed all he was able to say.

Light exploded around him suddenly, but Sam was well used to it by now, letting his own physical form fall away and wrapping every particle of his soul with Lucifer's true form. He let Lucifer take control of them, feeling a sudden rush as they started moving. Lucifer was taking them away, wings spread as he glided, frantically, almost desperately, away from the ever-darkening sky.

"Lucifer, what's happening?" Sam cried. He was clinging to his angel. He looked up. The darkness was everywhere, it was following them. It encased and surrounded everything. "Get away from me!" He yelled, unsure why or who he was talking to. His own words sounded weird, echoing, like he was speaking in two places at once.

He could see the rocky walls of Hell, but it was distorted, like a bad TV signal. For one fractured moment, he saw Dean, and Bobby, standing over to the side, a fixed image despite the speed he and Lucifer were moving. It was like a window between two worlds, like he was staring out through the bars of the cage at the life he'd left behind. There was an urge to reach out to them, but a stronger urge, growing strong still as Lucifer's presence wrapped even tighter around him, to back away.

"Don't do this," he told them.  _Do what?_  It was like there were two sets of thoughts in his head, as if he existed in two places at once.

The dark sky was falling, lowering down around them. It was approaching on all sides, boxing them in. He both heard and felt Lucifer cry out in something between fury and fear as they were forced to stop.

"Sam."

Something had spoken his name. He felt Lucifer coil tighter around him in response, spitting raging fury like an attack dog. Sam curled closer to him, cautiously searching until he found the source of the voice.

Death. In his human form, presumably for the sake of Sam's eyes. He stood looking as regal as ever, walking stick clasped with both gnarly hands in front of him.

"It's time for you to go, Sam," Death said.

"No..." He looked to Lucifer, beautiful mass of form and light as he was, holding tight to him. "No, I can't."

"Your brother needs you, Sam," Death continued calmly.

Sam shook his head, feeling the tears sting at his eyes. "No... Dean can cope... Dean'll be alright." He glanced at Lucifer again. "Please, just leave me here."

"This place was not made for humans, Sam. Much longer and you will not be able to cope with returning to the physical world."

"Then leave me," Sam insisted. "I don't care how messed up I become, just let me stay here. Take Adam back. Adam shouldn't be here."

Death sighed, lips hardening into a thin line. "I gave your brother a choice, Sam, to save you or Adam. He chose you."

"No," Sam said. "No.  _I_  don't chose that. I want to stay."

"What about your body, Sam?"

"What does that matter?" Sam snapped. "I don't need it down here."

"But perhaps it needs you up there."

Sam blinked and Death was stood in front of him, unnervingly close. He could feel Lucifer trying to pull him away, but something else was preventing him from moving. Lucifer's power was burning furiously around them but on Death it had no effect. Death could not be damaged, could not be harmed. There was no extent or effects with Death, it simply was. Dead was dead. There weren't levels of dead. And no matter how Lucifer tried, in all his fury, Death could not be killed.

"Think carefully, Sam," Death said. "You may reconsider your decision."

He was powerless to do anything about it as Death gently pressed two fingertips to his forehead.

An array of images burst forth in his mind's eye. He saw himself, except it wasn't him. It looked like him, sounded like him, but it was an imitation. A puppet moving by itself. And running wild. He saw himself shooting innocent people for the sake of catching monsters. He saw himself lashing out at Dean, at Bobby, not caring when they were in danger. He saw Dean, in danger, because of him, this other him.

He was stood alone with Death now, in some blank landscape of shadows. He couldn't see Lucifer.

"What's happening?" he asked, voice choked with desperation. "What was that? What's going on?"

"That's you, Sam," Death said. "You without the soul you are now. It is souls that feel, Sam. Souls that make you human. What is walking around up there is a shell, a machine, thinking with logic and proper thought, as the human brain is capable of, but no emotion. No remorse, no regrets. Your body is running wild without you."

"No..." Sam shook his head, face contorted into a trembling frown. "Can't you stop it?" he asked. "Can't you kill it? I don't want people to get hurt because of me."

"I reap souls, Sam. What is up there is essentially a zombie, a walking corpse. I can only kill your body when you are inside of it."

Sam knew where this was going. He knew, as he always did, that this was the moment where it all fell apart. He'd thought Hell had been enough of a consolation to pay for some brief experience of happiness, that embracing his status as the freak and monster, with the biggest monster of all, could somehow draw him away from the chances of disappointment and misery. He should have known better. It had to be a mess, or he wouldn't have believed it was his life.

"Something is brewing, Sam," Death said. "Heaven and Hell are in chaos. You and your brother are needed. He needs you."

"Dean..." The tears were running freely down his face now, frantic sobs choking up out of his throat. He saw, briefly, before his eyes, his brother, so distraught, lost in dealing with these messy remains of a soulless brother he now had. He ducked his head, hair hanging over his face, guilt and shame and regret and so much more creeping up over him until he could hardly stand it. This,  _this_  horrible impossible decision, in knowing he was indirectly causing harm, that he couldn't control a part of himself, that he had to stop this or his conscience would plague him forever, this was Hell.

He didn't remember falling to his knees, but there he stayed huddled up, hands gripping his hair, shoulders shaking with his sobs. "I can't... I can't do this... Why me?"

"Because sacrifices must be made," Death said. "Because there are some in this world who suffer for everything they have, and you are one of them, Sam, but the things you do will have the greatest impact."

"But... what about Lucifer?"

"Lucifer is the same," Death explained, adjusting the grip on his cane slightly, laying one hand over the other, the white jewel of his ring glinting, though there was no light to reflect off of it. "This is free will, Sam. There must be those in this great tapestry who make the hard decisions, who perhaps fall to give the rest a higher standing point. There must be bad to be good, lows to be highs, Hell for there to be Heaven. You have been falling all your life, Sam, and even now you have not hit the bottom. In the beginning, mankind knew only a dull, ceaseless joy, and because they had never known different, they could not appreciate it. When Lucifer broke all that, man's minds were opened. They knew the horrid torments of sadness, yes, but in that, they could appreciate the highest moments of happiness."

"I'm happy here," Sam whispered, letting his hands drop into his lap, staring down at his trembling palms.

"Are you now? Knowing what you know, about the effects your happiness is having on earth?"

Sam groaned, choking out a noise somewhere between a scream and a cry of anguish, clutching his head as if to stop a great pain. "Why do I have to fix it? Why do I always have to fix it? I'm in  _Hell_ , godammnit. Why can't I just stay here?!"

"Because to die, it must be all or nothing, Sam. You are not dead. What is up on earth is still a part of you, and you must retrieve it, before you can return here fully."

Sam swallowed thickly, chocking down his tears and the nauseous despair creeping all over him. "Lucifer's a part of me, too," he whispered.

"Yes," Death replied, to Sam's slight surprise. "You are a strange human, Sam Winchester. There are three parts to you. For most there is only the soul and the body, and they are often not separated until one rots away in Death. You, however, were born with a part of you missing. Had Castiel not grabbed your body while you were falling down here, the three parts could have stayed content together here forever."

Sam frowned, eyes still damp. "Why did Castiel do that?"

"The cage is not easy to fight against," Death said. "It was trying to pull you in. Your soul clung tighter to Lucifer than it did your body. Castiel could not pull both parts of you free."

Sam sighed, eyes falling shut. "I have to die again, don't I?" he said. "So all the parts of me come back together." He opened his eyes, raising his head to look up at Death. "I'll come back here, right? I can come home to Lucifer?"

"If you wish," Death said. "I could personally see to it. But you can easily go to Heaven- many would argue you have well earned it- with only two parts of yourself, and be as happy as you ever were on earth."

Sam considered this. He had been happy on earth. At times. Happy, but always with this nagging feeling of incompleteness, of not being whole.

"If you allow the barrier I put in your head to stand, this is what will happen."

"And if I don't?" Sam asked. "If I want to come back here?"

"Then you must remember," Death said. "But understand, Sam, this cannot be done in nice easy chunks. Once the dam is broken, it will all come flooding in. It may consume you."

"But I'm coping now," Sam said.

"Time is slow here," Death replied. "But imagine everything hitting you at once. Not just from you, but from Lucifer, too. All those emotions, the physical pain, the suffering, and everything you've felt along with it. Even these moments of us talking now, the difficulty of the choice you have to make may later overwhelm you."

"So what?" Sam asked. "I'm going to have one heck of a case of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?"

"That's one way of putting it," Death said. "Yes. You will be fighting yourself and all your experiences." He paused, shrugging one shoulder mildly. "Or you can simply choose not to scratch the wall. We shall see."

Slowly, Sam got to his feet, taking in a deep shuddering breath as the darkness began to wane around them. He began to feel Lucifer close to him again. He didn't need to tell Death that he'd made up his mind. Death already knew, as always.

Feeling as guilty as he'd ever done, as downtrodden, miserable, and utterly desperate as he hadn't even previously known it was possible to feel, he straightened up and looked Death in the eye.

"Just give me one thing," he whispered. "Please just let me say goodbye."


	12. Rock Bottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait, I've been swamped with uni work and handed in my dissertation today! Next chapter should be a lot quicker, and likely the last one. Thanks for waiting, and for reading, of course! ^_^

Wherever it was Lucifer stood- raging and burning with angelic fury- Death returned him there, and with a heavy heart, Sam slowly made his way over to the archangel.

Lucifer instantly rushed toward him upon seeing him, a great, moving mass of light that soon wrapped around him, embracing him as if he truly intended to hold him forever and never let go.

Sam sighed, eyes slipping shut in contention, basking in these last moments where he felt whole. He didn't know how long it would be until he felt like this again. For now, Lucifer's presence wove into every part of him, filling him, lighting him up and making him feel like he was floating, like he was free.

"Why are you crying, Sam?" Lucifer asked.

Sam sighed, shuddering, curling closer to him. "How do you know I'm crying? I'm just a soul."

"I always know, Sam," Lucifer whispered.

_Yeah_ , Sam thought mildly, a shaky, sad smile touch his lips.  _You do_. _You always know_.

He knew it would be no good to drag this out. It would only make it harder to leave. So taking a deep breath, not that it helped, Sam looked into Lucifer's true face, and forced out of his mouth possibly the hardest words he'd ever had to say.

"I have to go."

He felt Lucifer's despair crash down around him, like dark clouds rolling overhead. It was a sudden icy chill, a stab in the chest, his heart breaking. "No," the archangel whispered, voice full of pure, heartbreaking melancholy. "Sam,  _no_."

"I'm sorry," Sam mumbled, feeling Lucifer shift into Nick's form in his arms. He wasn't sure why, maybe he'd willed it to happen, but it felt right as he gently rested their foreheads together. "It's not for good," he said. "I promise. I'll come back."

"You don't have to leave," Lucifer growled, voice tinged with angelic fury. Angry, but not at him, at the rest of the world, at this system of misfortune where the two of them always seemed to end up the sacrifice, the martyr, the fallen. " _Stay_."

Face scrunching up to stop himself from crying, Sam shook his head, reaching up and taking Lucifer's face in his hands, holding them close together. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I can't... Dean... I'm causing harm up there... Dean needs me..."

"No!" Lucifer snapped, fury growing. "You don't need him, Sam. You need me. I can give you anything, Sam. Anything you want."

Sam smiled, despite everything.  _I want you._  But he couldn't have what he wanted, that was the whole point. And he understood Lucifer in perhaps a way that no one else did. He knew what Lucifer wanted, too. He got the message, what Lucifer was trying to say, that he needed Sam, too.

It just made this all the harder.

"Lucifer..." The word fell from his lips with all the reverence and hope he'd once put into his heavenly prayers, back when he'd been so ignorant of it all. He'd hoped and believed in angels, and in many ways they'd disappointed him, but maybe that didn't matter. Maybe you didn't have to believe in Heaven, or pure goodness, or angels, maybe you just had to believe in one. And he'd found his. "I love you. I love you in the way I always wished I could love myself." He leant back slightly, just enough to see the archangel's face, cheeks streaked with tears, eyes glistening, a shaky, broken smile on his face. "You waited for me," he whispered. "You waited for me for so, so long. I just need you to wait a little bit longer."

"No, Sam.  _Please_." Lucifer grasped both his hands, holding tight, tears lining his own lashes in the most desperate, open display of emotion Sam had ever seen from him. "You don't know what it's like here without you. It's Hell without you. Real Hell."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bear the look on Lucifer's face. "I'm sorry. I really, really am sorry. But it won't be forever." He gently wiped Lucifer's tears away, unable to take the sight of them. "Just for now, I have to help, Dean. Help everyone."

Lucifer's teeth gritted, he pulled back slightly, furious. "And what about me, Sam? They're all more important to you than me?"

" _No_ ," Sam said firmly. "But everything's all wrong. I... I just can't leave it like that."

"Forget Dean," Lucifer snapped.

Sam sighed, feeling a tear roll down his cheek, stopping as it touched his lips, salty and bitter. "Did you ever forget Michael?" he asked.

Lucifer paused. For several long moments, he just stared at Sam. Eventually, his shoulders sagged, head ducking down as if he couldn't bear to look at Sam anymore. "You are the only consolation I've had, Sam. For so, so long. No matter what else, I always had you."

"You still do," Sam said, stepping closer to him. "You always will. And I'll be back soon, I promise. When I die, we'll finally be together properly."

"Or I can come up there and destroy the planet and take you back," Lucifer snarled.

Sam sighed, reaching out and gently brushing his fingertips down the side of Lucifer's face in a soothing gesture. "Don't do that," he said softly. "You and me, we're... tainted. Exiled, not a part of our own kinds anymore. Maybe we should be locked away down here, I don't know. But whatever we do, whatever we deserve, it'll be together."

"I fell for you, Sam," Lucifer whispered, gently catching Sam's hand by the wrist and holding it against his face, seemingly just for the sake of contact. "I fell because I knew you would, too. For a long time, I was falling alone, until finally, you came, and you..."

"Jumped and fell with you," Sam filled in with an affectionate smile. "Then we jumped down here, too. Maybe you and I are always falling." He pulled Lucifer closer, moving so their faces were barely an inch apart, he met the archangel's gaze full on. There were whole universes hidden in those eyes. "I'll come back," he said. "I promise. I can always find my way back to you." Shaky as it was, his smile widened. "All I have to do is fall."

Lucifer pulled him in, kissed him, deep and long and passionate. Light exploded, enveloping Sam's senses, Lucifer's true form holding him and embracing him, and kissing him until Sam felt breathless though he had no lungs to breathe.

The moment it ended, when he forced himself to pull back, Sam knew if he didn't do it then, he wouldn't be able to bear to do it at all.

"Okay," he said, speaking the empty air, though he knew Death would be hovering near. Wasn't it always? "Take me. I'll go."

Darkness descended. The kind of darkness you see behind your eyes only when there is no light. The kind of darkness you see in death. Sam could feel something pulling him, carrying him, dragging him away as if down a dark tunnel. He knew he was crying, shaking, reaching out for something he could no longer see. The world- the horrid real world- echoed, sounds and sensations blurring and merging, invading him with its horrible physicality. There was a movement that felt simultaneously like he was being pulled apart and stuffed back together. Sam screamed. And somewhere, in another dimension, with a voice that would have shaken the whole earth, someone else was screaming, too.

We he took his first breath back on earth, it seemed it was both their voices crying out through his mouth.

* * *

For a long time, he sleeps. There's dreams, all blending into each other. Dreams of pure white light, of stars, of other worlds. He sees himself walking streets he's sure no human has ever tread, but there's always something missing. It's like there's a space beside him that he can't quite make himself look at to see, a hint of movement in his peripheral vision. It's like a hole ripped out of the picture, scribbled over, covered up.

When he finally wakes, he's staring up at the ceiling in the panic room.

What day it is, how he got there, even what year it is, he couldn't have said. Of two things he was sure: something major had happened, and there was something important missing.

* * *

Sam had seldom felt such joy as when he learnt Dean and Bobby were safe, that Cas was alive. For a few blissful minutes, everything seemed like it had maybe worked out all alright.

And then Dean asked what he remembered.

He made an honest attempt to try and think, but there was just... nothing. It was like his head was filled with static.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Dean pressed.

Sam shrugged. "The field," he said, referring to Stull cemetery. He paused. "And then I fell."

_Fell_.

Something about that word struck him. Some significance he swore he was missing. He could remember falling, the rush of air, the jolt in his stomach, the fear as he plummeted uncontrollably downwards.

"And then what?" Dean asked.

Nothing. He didn't even remember hitting the ground.

* * *

Obviously, he thought about Lucifer. It  _was_  only natural. It had all been because of Lucifer, this whole crazy hell trip and everything else that had happened.

_Lucifer._ Even now, he felt no malice toward him. He didn't know what he felt. He'd never felt as he should in regards to Lucifer. Hating the devil should have been easy, and yet Sam had always found it inexplicably hard. Then again, for most people, the devil doesn't show up and promise them the world, doesn't treat them with the most respect anyone ever had, doesn't... complete them, at least for that short, perfect time he almost couldn't bear to think about when they'd been one being. Shamefully, he found himself thinking back to that time far too often, and with far more longing than he should have. Knowing there had been a break between him being Lucifer's vessel and seeing Dean again, was actually something of a relief, even if he couldn't remember it. He  _could_  remember the guilt he'd felt, the shame at how much he'd enjoyed being one with the devil. Dean had asked him a little about the experience, but he'd purposefully given vague answers.

Just sometimes, he wondered what Lucifer was doing now. What had Lucifer done while he was in Hell? Sam wasn't keen to remember torture and hell fire, but there was a natural rising curiosity of what had happened between him and the cage's other inmates. What about Michael? And Adam. He knew both he and Dean worried over whether Adam was okay.

Currently, Sam was sat up in his room at Bobby's, having been encouraged to rest from both Bobby and his brother. Honestly, he was getting a little sick of the mollycoddling, though he appreciated their concern. It was strange, though, he'd been away for a year, technically, and yet this room seemed so familiar, as if he'd been in and out of it perhaps just days ago like normal. Sam stared up at the ceiling with its general layer of grime, somehow comfortingly familiar, along with the faint smell of whiskey. He'd always felt something close to at home here. Well, as close as he'd ever been with anything in his life. Sam sighed, rolling over to get closer to... What?

Pausing, Sam blinked, attempting to think back on that train of thought, but coming up blank. It was strange. Just for a moment there, it was like he'd expected to find something in the bed with him, something he'd wanted to be close to.  _What?_

Perhaps the dull isolation of lying here doing nothing was getting to him. Sam pushed himself up from his bed and absentmindedly wandered across the room planning to perhaps find a good book to read. He had to do something to stop himself from going completely stir crazy.

He began searching the drawers for the few possessions he kept here, hands brushing over odd pens and other various junk. Neither Winchester had many possessions outside of clothes, basic necessities, and weaponry, and what Sam did own he had picked up either in cheap second hand stores, or been given from Dean or Bobby, or occasionally acquired back at Stanford. His fingers brushed something small and rectangular; not recognising the item immediately, Sam pulled it out with a curious frown.

It was a deck of cards. Nothing special. One of the past times they sometimes engaged in when they had spare moments between hunts. Sam turned the deck over in his hands, pushing back the flimsy cardboard lid and pulling up the first couple of cards. They'd been left in the wrong order. Typical, he must have played with Dean last who never bothered to put things away neatly unless they were in his precious car. When had their last card game been? Had Bobby played, too? No, he only remembered one person. Must have been Dean... No...

The cards fell out of his hand, thumping onto the floor, a couple spilling from the cardboard packaging and sliding a little way out onto the ground. Sam paid them no mind, clutching his head as a series of flashing images assaulted his mind. Chains... Hell fire... A bright light that made his eyes burn despite that he couldn't see it...  _Oh God_ , this was agony... He felt fear... Rushing fear, despair, terror, comfort... What?

Sam staggered back, forcing himself to find the bed before he collapsed, hands clutching his temples. It felt like his head was about to split in two. He must have cried out because Dean's footsteps came thundering toward his room.

"Sam? Sam!"

His brother's hands grabbed his shoulders, all but holding him up, Dean's concerned face frowning anxiously down at him, eyes shining with worry. For the briefest moment, he swore those eyes were blue.

"I'm okay," he ground out.

"Sam..." Dean looked panicked. "Don't scratch, dammnit! Don't think about it! You can't think about it! There's nothing worth remembering about that place."

Nothing? No. There was- " _Aaahh!"_

" _Sam!"_

He could feel Dean's hands on him, hauling him back onto the bed, forcing him to lie down. He vaguely felt his head hit the pillow, vision swimming, head pounding. He tried to sit up, reaching out for... for what?

"Sam, lie down, dammnit."

"But..."

"What? Look, Sam, you're in shock or something. Just lie down."

"No. I have to..." Have to what?

Dean was holding his upper arms, pinning him in place until Sam's energy finally gave out and he fell still. He groaned weakly, head lolling to the side as Dean sighed and released him, watching Sam's eyes flutter shut.

"Just get some rest, okay?"

The words sounded jumbled, like his brother was far away, or through a thick fog. In a state of half-consciousness, he could hear Dean's voice. Perhaps further into unconsciousness, he could hear someone else. "Stay," they said.

The door closed as Dean left, but he barely registered the noise. His mind was fuzzy, head swimming, a kind of dizzy feeling like he was standing on the edge before a deep, deep drop.

"I can't..." Sam whispered, speaking the words to the empty room and to something not there. "I'm sorry."

" _Stay_." The voice came again, firmer, harsher. There was anger with it. Someone was angry at him, weren't they? He had left. Of course they were angry. Must be. Stupid, worthless person like him, he'd messed up again. He deserved this anger, this punishment.

"I'm sorry," he said again, the words slurred and half muffled by the pillow. "I'm so sorry, Lucifer."


	13. Leap of Faith

Remembering Hell was in some ways worse than Hell itself. There was that quote, wasn't there, about if you're going through Hell keep going, and Sam felt that made a lot of sense. After all, what else could you do? At least in Hell objectives were simple, to survive, to ensure, to keep safe. Thinking about Hell was different, because it crept over you, swamped you with all its details that you could dwell on and torture yourself with. Who needed demons? He was his own best inflictor of pain, and the self-damning, paranoid, haunting thoughts that crept into his mind were worse than any slice of a razor blade or lick of hell fire.

The memories had come back like a mad, jumbled rush, bits of some, parts of others. And all seen through the filter Hell put on his vision which turned everything into despair.

He'd remembered everything in the worst possible way. He'd known, overwhelmingly, the moment Castiel broke the wall in his head, that he'd had Lucifer, loved and been loved by him, and at the same time knew from it the crushing and almost unbearable weight of that loss.

The other seeping memories of Hell had been bad enough, throwing themselves at him with hallucinations, until one painfully real vision of his lost Lucifer appeared before him and Sam let it convince him that the real thing was angry at him for his abandonment. He'd endured the vision, though somewhere in the back of his mind he'd known that it wasn't Lucifer, that it was his own more self-depreciating, bitter underlying consciousness talking back to him. Sam had lived so long with hard choices, a hard life, and people looking at him like there was something wrong with him. It was only natural for his hell-abused mind to take the one being that understood him wholly and convince him that he'd turned on him, too.

It was only in the slow, uneasy days of recovery, after Castiel took the burden of an internalised personal hell from him, that he began to see clearly. Unfortunately, it was at the expense of Castiel inheriting his curse of metaphorical hell-goggles, leaving the angel to face his own internal demons instead. Sam, meanwhile, though still wracked with guilt over it all, slept just that bit easier now, enough for his mind to begin healing itself. Enough to be certain of the pure, longing memories of Lucifer's presence close to him in the cage, that this thing, this real thing he'd had, wouldn't hurt him. Not now, not ever, not really.

Maybe Lucifer was mad. At their circumstances, at fate, at God maybe. Maybe a little at him, but that was okay. Dean had been angry at him before, and Bobby, and Cas, and others. Anger was normal and would pass. Anger didn't make the love any less. And when he felt himself slipping again, uncertain, Sam knew undeniably that Lucifer loved him still, and that made it all just about bearable.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Hunters didn't need calendars. There had often enough been times when he'd barely known what month it was, let alone what day of the week. Not that it mattered. It wasn't like they had schedules to keep. But Sam had brought a diary. One of those fake-leather cheap things with a box for each day to write appoints and reminders. The kind millions of people around the world used to keep track of their schedule, usually peppered with scribbled entries such as 'hairdressers- 3pm', or 'pay credit card bill' or whatever else normal people had to remind themselves about. Sam, however, didn't have much he needed to remember in his upcoming schedule. Instead, he wanted to remember back, to keep track of how much time had passed. He wasn't sure how the physics of moving on into the netherworld worked, but he was sure he could convince Death to let him take this little bound scrap of papers with him. And the diary he planned to buy for next year, and the year after, until he died.

He wanted to give them to Lucifer. He addressed each entry to Lucifer. He knew some people did things like that, wrote 'dear diary', or made up an imaginary friend, or perhaps wrote to a dead loved one, he recalled when he'd read Anne Frank's diary she addressed the entries 'dear kitty'. It was therapeutic, he supposed.

The first entry, he hoped, explained his thinking behind this strange gimmick:

_Dear Lucifer,_

_Yesterday, I left a mental hospital. Remembering Hell was hard, but I'm sure I don't need to tell you about that. I'm at some motel now, with Dean. Back to hunting, saving people, or at least trying to. I know you might not think much of that, but I'm just trying to do the right thing, and I think you'd get that, at least. You've always tried to do what you thought was the right thing, too, right? Even if everyone kept telling you you were wrong, or that you should stop. I think that's how you always thought of it. Your own justice, your own morals. I remember you once told me you were doing this (you know, the whole apocalypse business) because you had to. And I get it, I really do._

_Sorry, I'm rambling. I've never really done much of this whole writing down my thoughts thing before. I'm hoping you can make sense of it because it's kind of for you. I want to get these things down as I'm thinking them, because I can't tell you all this now, I want it recorded so you can at least know one day what I wished I could have said._

_First of all, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving you, for leaving... whatever it was we had. A kind of home, I guess. I know it's not fair on you, all this. You've done so much for me, you deserve to keep me. And you will, I promise. I meant it when I said I'd be back. I just need you to wait for me. I'm kind of hoping that because you're so many billions of years old that it won't feel like too long in comparison._

_Anyway, this is just the best I can do for now. I'm hoping it'll be of some small consolation to you, to see all this. I want to write something everyday, even if it's just one or two lines. I just want... need you to know that I haven't forgotten you, not for one moment. I hope that I can give this to you, and you can see that I thought about you everyday, that I missed you everyday. Because I do. It's like someone cut a part out of me. You were right with all that two halves made whole stuff._

_Okay, this all just sounds lame. You can make fun of me when you see this if you want to, but I just hope you get it. Not just the physical bits of paper I'm writing on, but why, and what I'm trying to say and all that. I think you will. You... get me._

_I hope you're okay. I hope you're not fighting with Michael. I just... hope you know I'm thinking about you still._

_I'll be back soon. I miss you. I miss you so, so much._

_All my love,_

_Your true vessel, and yours in every other way,_

_Sam Winchester._

The write was cramped and barely readable, over-flowing into the next box down, even though the space for each entry was a third of the page. He'd just have to make the next entry smaller. He hadn't meant to write so much. Reading it back, it seemed a little corny, embarrassing, but it wasn't like Lucifer didn't know all the worst things about him anyway.

Closing the book, Sam placed it carefully into his duffle bag, ensuring it wouldn't get bent, before piling clothes on top of it to keep it out sight, and zipping the bag closed.

The motel room door clicked open, and Dean appeared with reloaded guns and car keys in hand. He passed the bulky silver hand pistol over to Sam, who stuffed it into the waistband on his jeans. "Ready?"

Sam nodded, plastering a smile on his face and shifting his mind to hunting mode. "Yeah, let's go."

 

* * *

 

 

 

They were chasing up some kind of haunting in a gigantic cathedral out in Nebraska. Another standard day, standard monster hunt. The staff kept quitting on account of unsettling paranormal occurrences, and after one had declared the place cursed to a local newspaper, the Winchesters had caught wind of the story and gone along in the guise of two journalists.

Sam was interrogating the reverend, while Dean subtly explored with an EMF meter. The elder Winchester was currently on the other side of the room, supposedly examining the building's architecture, while Sam asked questions.

"Has there been any deaths in the area? Anyone connected with church?"

The reverend pondered, wringing his frail hands together thoughtfully. "There's a fairly large old community around here. Death is sadly common. The most recent that comes to mind is old Mr. Hansen. Kind old fellow, donated lots of bits for our jumble sale."

"He donated some of his own things?" Sam asked, instantly latching on to the suggestion of objects to which spirits could become attached.

"Yes. I think there's still a few bits for our sale next week."

"I see." He caught Dean's eye, nodding to show he had a potential lead, which immediately garnered his brother's interest. "Would you mind if we had a quick look at the things he donated? Just, you know, build up a bit of an image of him for our story."

"Yes. Yes, of course. They're in a room upstairs. Come this way."

Both Winchesters followed the man toward a door at the back. It opened to reveal a stone staircase rising up into what must have been the large tower they'd seen from the outside of the building.

"I'm afraid it's a bit of a climb," the reverend told them. "My old legs find it rather difficult, but you're welcome to take a look yourselves. Two floors up, door marked storage."

"Alright," Dean declared, already passing through the door.

Sam was about to follow when the reverend stopped him. "You know, this church has a wonderful collection of hand-drawn books. Some of them are very old. Would that be of interest to your article? I'm sure your readers would love to know about them."

Sam paused awkwardly, glancing at Dean who grinned and shrugged. It would have rude to decline, so Sam forced a smile and nodded to the man. Dean could handle rummaging through some old charity donations by himself, he supposed.

Besides, Sam rather did like books, of course. The man talked him through some old bible copies they had in various language, some with detailed illustrations, others in original latin or old english. Had they not been in the middle of a case, he would have rather loved to spend a long time looking through them at his leisure.

"This one is a personal favourite," the old reverend said, carefully placing a heavy volume down onto the table. The title was in latin, and Sam recognised the word for angels. "Beautiful images," the reverend continued. "I don't know where the artist drew his inspiration. They're quite unorthodox, but very well done nonetheless. Unfortunately, not many are titled, but there's a whole array of angels covered, all drawn by hand."

"It's amazing," Sam said earnestly, turning the pages slowly and with due respect, studying the many winged and strangely shaped beings depicted. About twenty pages in, he paused.

"Ah yes," the reverend said, noting the look on Sam's face. "Strange to include it, but I suppose we can't deny the truth that the devil was once an angel. Despite all the badness it caused, the devil's fall from grace is a part of our Christian history."

It was a wondrous image, it almost looked alive. Carefully sketched out was the symbolic clouds of Heaven above, and falling from them, a sensuous figure with streaming wings, outlined in light. It wasn't an accurate representation, of course, but it got the effect across. Unable to stop himself, Sam let one fingertip trail over the image.

"It's beautiful," Sam said.

"Yes," the reverend admitted. "A great piece of artwork. Not how one should perhaps picture the devil, but nonetheless..."

"Lucifer," Sam corrected softly. "His name is Lucifer."

The reverend gave no sign of being affronted. "Yes, it was back then," he replied, clearly having assumed Sam was merely demonstrating his religious knowledge.

Feeling the tears sting at his eyes, Sam carefully closed the book and pushed it back across the table toward the reverend. "Thank you for showing me," he said, the words coming out a little rushed, but thankfully more or less level. "I should probably go help my colleague."

"Of course," the reverend nodded, pointing the door out to him once more, before turning to busy himself with tidying the books away as Sam headed for the stairs.

Some stupid part of him wanted to write all this down now, to record it in the diary. He was embarrassed to admit how much of a comfort he took from telling Lucifer about the little things that happened to him. If only he could have done it in person. As the hallucination had mocked, Sam knew it was true, he had always enjoyed their special little chats.

It was indeed a long climb up the towers. The stairs were large and steep, too. He stopped on the second landing, easily picking out the door for the storage room. He could hear Dean moving around inside, surely searching for any object that looked significant enough for a spirit to bind itself to.

Sam stepped closer, intending to enter, but something made him pause, hand on the door handle. There was no chill in the air or flickering of the lights, so he was pretty sure any spirit that happened to be about wasn't near him. No, that wasn't it.

He turned and looked over his shoulder, studying where the staircase rose up further to the next level.

A burning curiosity overtook him. He didn't know what he'd do if Dean or the reverend realised he was missing, but he could always try to claim that he'd somehow missed the obviously marked door of the storage room if it came to it.

Sighing, Sam turned on his heel and headed up.

His legs began to ache as the climb went on. Reaching the next level, Sam was surprised to round the corner and find himself looking at a large towel bell suspended from the ceiling. Something about the overwhelming size of it almost made him feel dizzy. It looked big and ugly just hanging there, and Sam was about to turn back when he spotted another set of stairs rising even high on the opposite side of the bell chamber. This wasn't a proper staircase with walls either side like the other, but a single set rising diagonally along against the wall on one side, with a simple handrail on the other. Peering round the great bell, he could see a door at the top.

Walking carefully under the looming large bell, Sam crossed the room and made a beeline straight for the small staircase. It looked rather old, but giving the railing an experimental shake, he found it sturdy enough. So with that, he began to climb.

He knew he shouldn't be in here. The Winchesters did enough snooping around, and he wasn't even doing this for the sake of a case. He was just... He didn't even know. He'd probably turn back in just a moment anyway. The approaching single door was surely locked, perhaps even alarmed. That would cause for an awkward situation.

Yet, he found himself reaching for the handle. It gave way easily and the door popped open with only a small push.

It led, as he had expected, to the roof, right on the very top of the tall stone tower.

The wind nipped at him, blowing back his hair and the open suit jacket he wore. The space was only the size of a small room, and the edges were risen hardly more than a foot off the ground, more decorative than anything else. But Sam found the cold, as biting as it was, almost soothing. Ignoring all his best instincts, he slowly walked forward until he came to the stone edge.

The area below was peaceful, fairly quiet, only the odd car passing, or people wandering by. Leaning forward, he could see right down to the grey pavement, cold and hard.

He wondered what hitting it would be like. Would he feel it? Or would it be too quick? Wasn't there something about the fall itself could make you pass out? He might not even be aware the moment he hit the ground. Either way, it would be a quick death, surely. Perhaps the cavernous entrance to the cage would open right up from him there, a gaping mouth in the concrete through which he could drop straight in.

He thought of Dean briefly, what Dean would think. But Dean could move on, eventually. One of them would have to die before the other at some point. Why not now? Why not get it over with?

He wished to write in that silly old diary again. Yesterday, he'd written some drivel telling Lucifer about their crummy motel room. He imagined this entry:

_Dear Lucifer,_

_I'm stood on the edge of a cathedral tower, considering whether to go back inside, or throw myself off..._

Actually maybe not write that down. A bitter feeling tore at him as he contemplated which of those options Lucifer would want him to take. Were he to turn back, Sam didn't like the idea of making out like he'd chosen not to come back to him just yet. But were he to jump, Dean would be distraught, and god, it wouldn't be the most subtle way, bound to make the papers and the Winchesters being in the news was never a good idea. Surely it would mean Dean would get discovered to have not been a real visiting journalist, and Sam would feel awful causing his brother such trouble.

With his long legs, it was easy enough to step right up onto the small wall round the edge. He was literally stood with the tips of his black leather shoes hanging off. So close. Maybe he was leaving it to chance. A mere gust of strong wind could have sent him over.

It would be cruel to Dean, wouldn't it? Maybe he could find somewhere else, somewhere discreet. It felt right somehow, just jumping off of something. Falling. He felt curiously calm staring down at the hard concrete below. He knew perhaps he shouldn't, but the plummeting distance seemed nothing. He'd fallen further.

And besides, this time, there would be someone there to catch him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Whether Sam does choose to throw himself off that roof to get back to Lucifer is entirely up to you...
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing and everything else. I'm working on a new Samifer story right now, so keep a look out for that :)


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